I'm scared of the mindset I can feel myself falling back into. (Did I ever crawl out of it?) I don't feel real at the moment. Today on the way back from school, I asked my mum to pull over so that I could go into a shop to buy a drink. I didn't want a drink - I just needed to convince myself I was still real. That's the kind of headspace I'm in at the moment. I'm not seeing any of my friends, I'm basically sentenced to the house because of the precarious state my immune system is in, and up until today I haven't had any kind of tangible/fixed work schedule suggested to or imposed upon me. I sift in and out of a dreamland all day, and the only "real" thing I seem to be able to hold onto is my weight. The only thing that feels tangible, rigid, is the way the numbers have been slipping down on my scales every morning, slowly, steadily. The way I count out calories every day. 

Just move on with your life.

Everything is stagnant. My mother's depressed. My father seems to have magically produced a baby out of thin air.

Everything's shit. And yet, everything is wonderful. I'm the thinnest I've been in years. I'm going to take my A levels and, if it all goes to plan, I'll be off in the autumn to study at a top university. And, before that, a whole summer with my friends.

But first - surgery. Surgery, more illness, a desire to do well but a need to self-sabotage, and a little longer in this 2D magical bubble dead life.

I'm so scared of myself.