Last year I lived with two friends. I think if anyone could have noticed it should have been them. My strange relationship with food, my long and frequent visits to the bathroom, the blocked sink, the weight loss... yet they never put two and two together. And if they couldn't, can anyone?

This morning I am in pain from the hunger. Last night the pain was so strong I couldn't sleep, that never happened to me before. The hunger was almost sickening, it still is. I lay in bed fantasizing about hamburgers, and chips, and jars of nutella, thank god all the stores were already shut. I don't keep food in the house so the night is the safest time. A voice in my head was convincing me to go to mc donald's today, to get food, to eat it, to fall for the temptation. But I woke up and stood on the scales. I feel weak, and nauseous from the hunger, and my stomach actually feels in pain, but the scale said 61.4kg (135.4), and that means I am so close to being out of the 60s. I am to scared to cause a setback now.

I feel almost like a child, I want to call someone and complain about my pain, but I can't. I sometimes forget how most the things I'm feeling are actually taboo. You can't call someone up and say you haven't eaten in days, or that every time you stand, your head goes dizzy and you almost spin, or that you want to cry because you're so hungry. they wouldn't understand. they'd tell me to eat, but eating is a very complicated concept to me, and i don't think that anybody understands that. to me food isn't food, it's calories, it's little monsters inside of me that multiply my fat, preventing me from ever being happy. I fly home in 5 days. my mother has always silently judged me every time i ate. i see her eyes, the ugly thoughts shoot out of them, as i pick up something and put it in my mouth. she has always judged me. look at me now mother, are you proud of me yet? is this little enough for you? i don't know if i can move from bed today, i feel like i could collapse from too much movement. pain, please go away. i need this so much.

what's funny is that i don't even like mc donald's.

Isn't this what it's all about? Talking to your parents and actually feeling better about yourself from the conversations? Because when I talk to him, I feel more loved. He tells me that I'm pretty, he says if you weren't my daughter I would have fallen in love with you right now, he tells me I've lost weight, he tells me that it'll be okay, he reminds me that after all college years are the best of your life, and he encourages me to keep going. He's being my dad.

But when I talk to you, I feel destroyed. I love you, mum, I really do, but I feel like you're destroying me. I wish I could explain it but your words stab me right in the heart, and they haunt me, and they have put me off food forever. Your words have bred this monster inside of me. And I don't want to hold you responsible for this, because you're not, it's all my doing. But why don't you know me? Like really know me, like a parent is supposed to know their kid? You're meant to feel me, you're meant to see past every silence, past every lie. You don't though, you believe that I'm a pathological liar yet you can never tell the lies apart from the truth. It's bittersweet really, you believe my lies and refute my truths.

I wish we had stayed a family. There's nothing I want more than that. Nothing.

I love that I'm writing a love story; that is so fragile.

I think my mum would be shocked if she ever saw my account. Suddenly, a determined and steel girl does appear, she exists in the realm of her disorder, all that strength is put into starving herself. Whilst in life she remains as futile as ever.

She's never seen me as fragile. I think even as a child she liked to imagine me as stronger, smarter, above all the problems. She was never so wrong.

There's nothing graceful inside me, nothing ladylike, I'm nothing of what you wished for. So maybe if I evaporate into thin air, will you love me then?

The only thing is, once I start I can't stop. Its like suddenly i go into this 'eat mode', eating as much as i can until i run out of time. its so fucked up, and it's the worst mode to be in. i'm out of it as of now. i'm going into the 'never eat mode' now.

I'm letting fragility in.

As those words are expulsed from my body I know that I mean them, I feel them go through my veins and that means I've made a promise.

Hunger and nothing more. Hunger. Let's make today a controlled and empty one. The new addition to my personal collection of wise words stuck all over my room, all that remind me that fragile comes first.

I really wish I had someone in my life who I could talk to. Here sat right next to me, or just a phone call or email away, who would understand my lifestyle, who would agree with it. I’m so sick of being taboo, of hiding and suppressing what I believe in most. Someone who isn’t eating either, and can understand my struggle and congratulate me for it, instead of feeling concern or whatever other horrible feeling. I’m so sick of them wanting to control me. Just because you’re too weak to not eat, just because you can't resist that disgusting cookie, don’t impose your weaknesses on me. I don’t care for that cookie and I never will, it makes me sick, and why do you want to make me sick?

How dare you tell me to eat? You’re not the fat one with the fat thighs and huge stomach. You’re the skinny girl that won’t gain weight regardless of what you stuff yourself with. So if you wish to live that life of eating and constant overeating, go ahead, I wont stand in your way, because that’s what best friends do, they help each other live. Yet you call me and tell me you think I’m not eating, and remind me of all the food I’ll have to be eating with you on your birthday. Are you really that pathetic that food is what your world revolves around? Is that really what you find gratification in? That sickens me.

I don’t need food, nor do I want it. I only want those who will understand, who will love me.

S told me to stay skinny, I liked that. Did he know the price I’m achieving this at? He couldn’t have, of course not, but he appreciated the end result, and he told me it is worth it. Stop reminding me of food and how it’s all you care about W, because honestly, those words are slowly making me hating you. And honestly, I’m not sure who I’d chose if it came down to it anymore, our 8 year old friendship or my hunger. At least the hunger understands.

Not good enough, always not fucking good enough. I see it all the time, how I'm not worth anything, no one wants to stick around, no one wants to fight for me, no one goes that extra step for me, because I'm not worth it, and that kills me. I act as if it's okay, as if I'm never bothered by anything, I always laugh things off and say that it's fine, I understand, but inside it kills me. I hate that I'm nothing special, that there really isn't anything about me to make someone want to make an effort for me. And the worst part is, I only have to blame myself. Why do I always put people first, when for them I always come last?

I want to disappear. Make me fragile and then destroy me.