It is hard for me to remember the events of late 2006 with any degree of precision or accuracy. However, I highly doubt my memory was any better at the time.
In the span of time from October to December of that year, my relationship with Adam suffered considerably. The resurfacing of my ex-boyfriend and the arguments that swiftly followed, kicked off a miserable chain of events that Adam and I never quite came back from. With a quickness, we were thrown into a revolving door of accusations and low blows.
He made lethal mistakes.
Ever playing the role of “insanely jealous boyfriend”, Adam stopped being the man I’d originally fallen in love with. He started to love his insecurities more than me. The drunken late nights out with his questionable co-workers became more frequent.
Partying took priority over advancing in his career, handling his financial responsibilities or spending time with his son. He would frequently laugh at my goals and dreams, insinuating that I didn’t have what it took to make them a reality. This was the beginning of the end.
I made lethal mistakes.
My career and future was consistently more important to me than soothing his fragile ego. I began complaining about my relationship to my friends. What started off as an innocent observation of their harsh critiques of him soon evolved into me actually agreeing with them.
Adam was suddenly disinvited from joining my friend and I on a trip to Las Vegas— despite his jealousy issues. The kind of partner I wanted looked nothing like the partner I had, but I repeatedly made the mistake of thinking that this could be “changed”. This was the beginning of the end.
I had to know that my love story was morphing into a tear-stained nightmare, but even now, I have trouble figuring out what I was truly thinking at the time. If you’d asked me, we only needed to live closer to each other. Our problem wasn’t us, but “the distance”.
This being said, we had started looking at apartments close to my school with plans of moving in together. It may have been dysfunctional as sin, but there was still love between us… somewhere.
Yes, I had to have known that moving in with him wouldn’t solve our issues. We had grown too different… too selfish. I was quickly losing control of the situation, and the fear was starting to get to me. Scared and lonely, I clung to my eating disorder(s).
It was the beginning of the end.
December 31, 2006
I’m lying here in my bed. Alone.
It’s the last night of 2006, but I have nothing new to report. Same old life, same old story. For once, I won’t sit here making resolutions that I have no intentions of keeping.
My New Year’s Eve plans were foiled. The person I had wanted to welcome the upcoming year with is everywhere with everyone else— without me.
I have felt downright horrid all day, so my usual holiday spirit has perished along with my plans. My head aches, my stomach is terribly sour, and I have a foul mood to match. Every ounce of will and want has been drained from the sad sinews of my body, leaving me a dull and wasted carcass.
My flesh is exhausted, but it is kept in good company by my heart and mind. I’m so damned restless, yet all I crave is the nothingness of sleep. A taste of bitterness has filled my mouth recently, but I care not to rinse it out.
The mirror has become my most hated enemy right along with the scale. I’ve wrestled with such a strong desire to fall to my knees, clutch the sides of the nearest toilet bowl and mercilessly expel everything that I loathe. How I would love to chisel my face as though made of the finest Italian marble… to mold my figure from clay so I may pose it in the fashion of a waif-like mannequin.
All day I dream of starving myself beyond recognition. I hide my food inside my sleeves so I can later throw it away in the trash. I lie to the unsuspecting and hope they never catch on that I haven’t “eaten already”. I run until I feel sick, and then I run a little more.
I reach for the dream and call out to perfection, always hoping to clutch it to my bosom. I never catch up to it, but still I reach. I will always reach. It is because of this that I break myself a little more everyday.
The only way that I can obtain my most coveted goal is to work even harder… to be like other girls. But I’ll never be like those girls. I’m too weak. Far, far too weak. I just want to be beautiful.
Happy New Year or whatever.
Have you ever seen the end of an relationship or friendship on the horizon, yet fail to accept the reality in hopes of something magically improving?
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