Not a good night

What did you do this summer?
I went to a mental hospital.
Really, what for, volunteering or visiting?
No, I WENT there. For anorexia.


...oh.

I'm so tired of not being able to answer the simplest questions. Or at least, not being able to answer them truthfully. I'm tired of hiding this whole other part of myself, the sick part, the scared part, the (sometimes) suicidal part. I try so hard to be the glittery little princess all the time, but at this point, I'm not sure if that's who I really am, or if I'm just compensating for the lack of anything attractive inside me. Because, let's face it, there is nothing attractive inside me. And that is what I'm sick of, more than having to pretend all the time, since you know if I didn't have anything wrong with me, I wouldn't have to pretend in the first place.
It disgusts me how wrong I am, how defective. I'm like a prototype gone wrong– someone messed up my assembly in the factory, and now I'm just a faulty bit of machinery, whirring helplessly around until the inevitable end. I'm so sick of it! I'm sick of needing medication in order to be able to function, and even then sometimes not being able to function anyway. I'm sick of not having any interest in things I love, and of not having the attention span to read academic articles anymore. How long has it been since I last looked up econ stuff? Don't think I'm not ashamed of it, either. Not an hour goes by that I'm not feeling ashamed of something that I can't help, but my mind is halfway-convinced that I can. You're supposed to be smart, why can't you figure out a way to feel better? Don't be so anxious, why are you so anxious all the time? You're ridiculous. And why didn't you eat today? Do you think it's cool and edgy or something? Trust me, no matter what anyone wants to say to me, I've already been there myself. I'm sick of it! I want to be normal so badly. All I want is to be able to function in everyday life up to the best of my ability, like other people do, like I should be able to do. I'm sick of taking the long way around campus so I don't have to see crowds of people, and of sitting in a crowded lecture hall frozen in panic, and of having my heart pounding so loudly in the elevator that it seems like everyone in the building should be able to hear it. I'm sick of turning down invitations because I can't make myself go out, and of pushing away the people I care about because I'm afraid they hate me. I'm sick of feeling my stomach tighten in dread every time I hear my roommates' keys in the door, and of cringing every time I hear voices in the hall. Why can't I be more normal? I feel so ashamed all the time, even when I do interact with people, like if it goes well, why can't you do this all the time? and if it goes not so well, why are you trying to have any pretensions of normalcy, you freak of nature? Either way, I can't win– just like the best of the Romantic poets, I have a response to every argument, except those against myself.
Now that I think about it, it's strange– I have excellent self-control, I mean it was so good it led me all the way to the hospital– but nowadays, it seems like I can't apply it. I can't even make myself get out of bed sometimes, for goodness' sakes. Mind over matter: I should be able to control my emotions, or at the very least, my thoughts. But it's so hard! I'm sick of being sick, and I'm sick of hiding the fact that I'm sick. Nothing's as it should be, not for me, not anymore.

What did you do this summer?
Not much, just the usual.
Cool.