sick

Richey Edwards and why (whatever the reason) this picture is disgusting...

A desperate act like this, however real, is made for the public; to shock and to cause distress, to gain attention and contrive the poor little me image. I am not saying self harm isn't real or that Richey Edwards didn't have a very real problem. A mentally stable person wouldn't do this, let alone do this for the public to see. I am all to aware of self harm. As an eleven  year old in an eating disorder clinic I was thrown into a distressing world where desperate people would slit there hands, necks, stomachs, thighs with anything they could find. I all too really saw with my very own eyes a friend slash chunks of flesh out of her arms "chunks"! and be rushed to hospital. I have felt the pain myself.. all through my teenage years witnessed and felt real real pain. It HURTS.
 The problem is sick people normalise there sickness or even become semi proud of there differences. In a sick world your drastic actions become something to lust after. Not just this it is a way of dealing with the "pain" the self obsessed fucking pain but it is sick it is ill. I have read about Richey he was no fake but the whole world becomes some sort of glamourised cult sick blood bath.
And I have been there... you can't help it but it is some sort of attention seeking thing, not conscious but so fucking sick. Sick for everyone else.
I feel his suffering. I get it. Yet...
I choose to distance myself. I spent my teenage years dealing with my own real problems and encountering my own real worlds. Pro- ana and pro- harm is something I am all too aware of. The destruction, the pure endless, glamorous destruction. I WANT to fit in. I WANT to be something. I AM SICK. THIS IS ME. THIS IS ME. THIS IS SO FUCKING ME THIS FUCKING TORTURED SOUL AND IT IS MY ONLY WAY OUT. I CUT MYSELF LIKE THIS. IT FEELS BETTER. IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD. I WANT TO DIE. LOOK AT MY BONES. LOOK AT MY BONES. DON'T LOOK AT MY BONES. IT IS ME. I WANT TO DISAPPEAR. THIS IS ME. I DON'T WANT TO BE ME. I HAVE THIS PROBLEM. IT IS MY LIFE. I AM SICK.
I had enough of it. I chose life. I chose to stop destroying myself. Chose to stop noticing my problems and get on with life. Deal with it.
The problem I have is the cult obsession. The cult leader ship and it is everywhere and it makes me sick. How dare people who don;t understand make judgements or think they no because they don't. How dare people shove this in my face as if it is going to make some sort of difference because it is not. Destruction isn't beautiful or tortured it is all so contrived and all so fake and I am not taking it.
Take it away. Take all this disgusting stuff away. It is there. But GOD don't be so self pitying and selfish and so fucking fucking selfish because you have no idea what you are doing.

4 stone 7 pounds

I eat too much to die
And not enough to stay alive

I'm sitting in the middle waiting
Cheeks sunken and despaired
Days since I last pissed
So gorgeous sunk to six stone
Lose my only remaining home

See my third rib appear
A week later all my flesh disappears
Stretching taut, cling-film on bone
I'm getting better

Kate and Emma and Kristin know it's fake
Karen says I've reached my target weight
Problem is diet's not a big enough word
I wanna be so skinny that I rot from view

I want to walk in the snow
And not leave a footprint
I want to walk in the snow
And not soil its purity
Stomach collapsed at five
Lift up my skirt my sex is gone

Naked and lovely and 5st. 2

May I bud and never flower
My vision's getting blurred
My hands are trembling stalks
But I can see my ribs and I feel fine
And I can feel my breasts are sinking

Mother trys to choke me with roast beef
And sits savouring her sole Ryvitta
But I can change, my cocoon shedding
That's the way you're built my father said

I want to walk in the snow
And not leave a footprint
I want to walk in the snow
And not soil its purity

Kate and Kristin and Kit Kat
All things I like looking at
Choice is skeletal in everybody's life
I choose my choice, I starve to frenzy
Too weak to fuss, too weak to die

Hunger soon passes and sickness soon tires
Legs bend, stockinged I am Twiggy
And I don't mind the horror that surrounds me
Self-worth scatters, self-esteem's a bore
I long since moved to a higher plateau


Just look at the fat scum who pamper me so
This discipline's so rare so please applaud
Yeh 4st. 7, an epilogue of youth
Such beautiful dignity in self-abuse
I've finally come to understand life
Through staring blankly at my navel 

by Manic Street Preachers

disease

I don't know quite how to start or what to say, how to express how I feel or what I feel... I am not entirely sure.
Another life cut short, another beauty always remembered, another wonderful girl taken by an evil illness.
Mental illness is little unerstood and even more misunderstood.
I spent alot of my early teens trapped in a world I didn't understand, caught in the grip of what can be broadley described as anerexia. I never feel this title can quite be defined and what it means is not definitive, all I know is it is sadness. I spent a good two years in impatient hospital living in what I percieved to be hell being controlled and manipulated by firstly my thoughts and then the people around me "helping me". There were times when I didn't want to go on... everything that mattered to me it seemed was being taken away... I wanted to be nothing... I was made to be something.. but something I didn't want to be and then nothing again.... not me!
As humans we are surronded by slogans and articles in the media about weight and beauty that sadly lead anerexia to seem shallow or a life choice. Celebrities are branded anerexic for being thin when really this has little to do with it... they are not commiting suicide .. fr them it is life.
It is deadly cycle hard to escape .. living a life of starvation and depression, fighting a system, two mids, one hated body.. it can seem there is little else important than that... no world beyond anerexia, death and hospital.
This is not about my story or what is right or wrong however it is a thank you a relfection on how lucky I am. I saw m life, I saw what I wanted, I fought and I fight and continue fighting. I love my life... I chose to live each day battlng my thouhts, learning to accept, to love food, trying to loose obsessions but I can see I can see how easily this could not have been how strong the illness is, how deceptive and how hard everything is to believe.
This i a rememberence to all I knew who have sadly passed away to anerexia and depression. How I dream they are set free and a wish to all those I don't know and all who are still suffering.
Much love
Effy
xxx