love is all there is...

The last few days have been a black and white haze of low-blood sugar induced shaking and sweating and panic and hunger-induced highs, freedom, and happiness. I am living in a coke bottle, one of those really old green tinted ones, and staring out of it at the rest of the world with my nose pressed tight against the murky, slime colored glass, pressed so hard that my nose can barely draw a hint of breath... so tight that the little breathe I do consume frosts up the sides of the bottle and everything I see becomes warped and faded...

I think I've eaten once since the 25th, and I purged that... swirls of delicate rainbow-coloured fruit loops and squishy, sugary shredded wheat embodied by thick, stomach-soured milk...oily, tempting lumps of evil.. all over the bed, the floor...out of control..

My heart was pounding so hard today... my sugar got so low I almost passed out (has been happening a lot lately). I couldn't talk.. it was like someone put a sock in my mouth and pinched my nose shut, and traded my legs for halfway firm jello, filled me with ice to make me shake and tossed me in the oven to pour rivers of sweat, stuffed cotton in my brain so I couldn't think...could only feel, like I was about to combust, or die... or..

What is really sad is that I am starting to, well not like it, but..almost...need to feel like that. Even though it's as if I am in the center of a whirlpool being sucked into Hell, and I swear I will meet my demise any second, and I can't speak or think or function... I must feel that pain and horror and terror... to know I am alive..

And today's attack happened right as my aunt asked me to go swimming. I could barely comprehend her. Finally when I realized what she said, I tried to answer and it came out all screwed up and I had to go lie down on my bed. Then my chest started heaving and everything started spinning. I took a tiny, itsy bitsy sip of juice... not even 1/2 oz. Eventually it went away, and then I had to apologize to my aunt and tell her yes, I would love to go swimming. I feel like a freak, like a fraud. I can't eat... I can't sleep... but I am alive, and here, and I am, to all appearances, so normal..

I am the fly in the bottom of the dusty green coke bottle, suckin' on the filth of the ages that coats the bottom.

Day after tomorrow I go home.

Hope I don't have any weird sugar problems on the plane, and I hope my heart behaves. My aunt told me I need to go to a doctor to see if I have some blood sugar problem since this has been happening so often. I won't go to a doctor.

Flies in coke bottles deserve to choke on the coagulated, moldy beverage in the bottom of the glass.