My most salient memories
He leaned down and whispered to me: No matter how thin you get, no matter how short you cut your hair, it's still going to be you underneath. And he let go of my arm and walked back down the hall.
The anoretic operates under the astounding illusion that she can escape the flesh, and, by association, the realm of emotions.
Men are embarrassingly easy to seduce.
It's really interesting to me how all of us can experience the exact same event, and yet come away with wildly disparate interpretations of what happened. We each have totally different ideas of what...
The idea began to sink in, more than it ever had, that I might be crazy, in the traditional sense of the word. That I might be, forever and ever amen, a Crazy Person. That's what we'd suspected all al...
You never come back, not all the way. Always there is an odd distance between you and the people you love and the people you meet, a barrier thin as the glass of a mirror, you never come all the way o...
Warned me that the tenuous balance that exists in my brain is easily set off kilter, but like everything else he said,
In her presence, I was reminded again of why I was an anoretic: fear. Of my needs, for food, for sleep, for touch, for simple conversation, for human contact, for love. I was an anoretic because I was...
There was a time when I was unable to get out of bed because my body, its muscles eating themselves away, refused to sit up. There was a time when the lies rolled off my tongue with ease, when it was...
I didn't particularly want to live much longer than that. Life seemed rather daunting. It seems so to me even now. Life seemed too long a time to have to stick around, a huge span of years through whi...
Painfully curious...about how it feels to fall.
They are solid, real. I am an object, useful but hollow. The absence of thought fills me up.
Starving is the feminine thing to do these days, the way swooning was in Victorian times.
Some people who are obsessed with food become gourmet chefs. Others become eating disorders.
It is a visual temper tantrum. You are making an ineffective statement about this and that, a grotesque, self-defeating mockery of cultural standards of beauty, societal misogyny. It is a blow to your...
I missed him so much that it felt like a physical pain in the area below my ribs. I opened my mouth to accommodate it. I put my hand to it. A hollow, aching, piercing place.
I grew into it. It grew into me. It and I blurred at the edges, became one amorphous, seeping, crawling thing.
Forgetting who you are and where you are and if you're there. Getting lost in the thought that you might be imagining everything, you might be dreaming your life. You look at your hand in front of you...
Comprehending little and caring less.