I have been dreaming again, shutting my hand in the front door, slamming the oven on my fingers. Being hit by a car when I’m cycling to work, watching myself catapult up in the air, spinning cartwheels with the sky as a backdrop. Landing and hearing my wrist cracking. Blood on the pavement.
Holding a hammer at work and wondering how it would feel to shatter the bones in my hand. Feel real pain that isn’t whirling, swirling thoughts. Agony that isn’t the ripping searing hunger that wraps around my stomach, or the stretch of a stomach filled far beyond its normal capacity.
Spending hours in a daze, wishing for drink to send me into oblivion but unable to touch a drop, unable to accept the feeling of the calories flowing throughout my body, straight to my stomach, thighs, arms.
Dreaming that I can hold it together, long enough to feel bones. Watching my body shrink in my sleep until there is nothing left but ash curling away in the breeze.
Wanting total silence, the end of all this. The urge to take sleeping pills and just sleep forever so strong it feels like a physical presence.
Like avicii says, wake me up when it’s all over. Because a life with this is too much and I can’t seem to find anything strong enough to hold onto.