tattoo thinspo and the dream life

"You're living in the past, it's a new generation!"

I'm absolutely inspired to get a new tattoo so I thought I would post some tattoo thinspo. I absolutely adore tattoo thinspo, there is nothing more beautiful than a boney, tattoo covered girl. I'm currently thinking of a design that I want on myself, and I will probably get it done in the next few weeks, if it looks okay, I might post a picture of it on here. 

The first one of the feather is like what I'm going to get on my back, to the left, and the top of the feather will be breaking up into little birds that fly away and curve round my flank. It's hard to explain, but I will definitely get an artist to draw it up first. I'm so excited. I feel like I've made some sort of breakthrough. Birds are always something that I wanted tattooed on me, and I love feathers but didn't want to get so many separate little ones. In a fit of peak, I realised I could just get them both in one tattoo. I can be so dumb sometimes. 

At times like these, I wish I could quit my job and just work in the fashion industry. I'd love to be an editor or you know, a fashion blogger that gets invited to be front row at all the couture shows. Be paid good money to give my opinion, and then I could wear what I wanted, I wouldn't feel so bad for having such an effusive wardrobe and I could tattoo the shit out of myself. Or, I could be a designer, make my own clothes and shoes and bags. Now, THAT'S the dream. 

I'm dying to get a tattoo on my forearm, but in my profession, it can be seen as quite offensive and could stop me getting good jobs in the future. Sometimes I hate having to look professional. That's why I bend the rules slightly when it comes to how I dress. I'm not demure, I'm not practical. I wear tight skirts, low tops, high waisted pants. I'm a walking fashion show. Or a limping fashion show, as is sometimes the case by the end of the day. Why shouldn't I be allowed to dress well. As long as I can do the job and my boobs and ass aren't falling out, it shouldn't be a problem. 

The studded boots, leggings, rock tees are more of a problem. I'd love to look like a rock chick. I hate how people just assume I'm one of those typical, sweet, giggling, passive Asian cuties. And I get guys asking me out because of that assumption. They want a cutie on their arm, to kiss and cuddle with and take out to dinner and be cute and sweet and go to karaoke and sing K-pop and J-pop and whatever other crap exists out there.

But when they meet me, I want to go to rock concerts, I want to listen to Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, ACDC, Bon Jovi, Depeche Mode, Black Sabbath, Def Leppard, The Violent Femmes and Guns'n'Roses. I want whiskey and port and I want to drive fast, to anywhere. I don't want to kiss or cuddle, I don't want to hold their hand. I would happily skip all that for a good fuck, but for some reason, the guys don't go for that. They find me pierced and tatted up and get put off. Whatever. Maybe I am a bit bipolar. 

Or maybe they find me fat and ugly and that's what puts them off fucking me. 

a follow on from "curvy girls" - aka a rant.

Miss Fat Piggy's "Curvy Girls" post...has inspired this rant. And warning girls, this is a RAAAAAAAANT. 

I could rant about overweight people all day, every day but really, I try to hold it in most days, but reading Fat Piggy's post has really triggered me off, not to mention some of the responses to it. Here is my comment on her post, plus a little more elaboration.

Here is my stance on being "curvy" and being overweight and "having a low metabolism". Sure, there are metabolic disorders that PREDISPOSE you to being fat, but at the end of the day, it's all intake vs. output. There are only 3 disorders in the whole world that I think will totally excuse you from being fat: Angelman's, Prader-Willi and leptin deficiency. 

Let's get this straight. Some of the thinnest people I know have PCOS, and NOBODY can blame being fat on having a LOW metabolism because metabolic rate is directly proportional to weight so the more you weigh, the HIGHER your metabolism. Exercise only changes your metabolic rate by a small amount so all that shit about HAVING A LOW METABOLISM IS JUST BULLSHIT. People who are overweight and think they have a "low metabolism" generally are counting their calories wrong. There was a study on these "low metabolism" people and they were compared with those thin people with "high metabolisms" who thought they were thin because they had a "high metabolism". 

GUESS WHAT???? They gave everyone radioactive double labelled water, which measures the number of calories that you eat, and those "low metabolism" people ate roughly twice as many calories than their "high metabolism" counterparts. And GUESS WHAT???? The "low metabolism" people actually had metabolisms that were 30% higher than those people who were supposed to have higher metabolisms. 

And also people, I give this speech to each overweight patient who tries to sell me the "low metabolism" bullshit. I went through 6 years of medical school bitches, you think you can fool me with that mainstream bullshit??? And yeah, sure, you might have the "obesity gene", the greatest excuse for being lazy any generation has ever had. But GUESS WHAT, only 10% of overweight people have that gene. So 90% of them are just overeating. 

Fat people use it as such an excuse for being fat. "Oh I have a low metabolism because everyone in my family has a low metabolism." Bullshit. The reason your whole family is fat is because you all eat the same shit. 

I do think that overeating is a behavioural issue, and that is is taught by observing other people's behaviour or is developed as a coping mechanism and you can't really blame people too much for that. However, it is their choice whether or not to continue their pattern, or to make a change. 

And NOOOOOOO, weight loss DOES NOT depend on WORKING OUT. So all those people too fat to move, or actually physically disabled in some way (perhaps they lost a limb due to the diabetes they gave themselves from being too fat) have no excuse. 80% of weight loss is diet related. And working out generally makes people more hungry, so they eat more. It's all about the food people. IT'S ALL ABOUT THE FOOD!!!! 

No, it's not easy to diet and lose weight. Of course it's not. If it was, nobody would be fat. And yes, food tastes good and food comforts us when we're upset. That's why it's so easy to be overweight. I'm not saying "fuck fat people, it's their own fault so tough titties". I'm not saying that at all. What I am saying is that until they start to really recognise their own eating and behavioural patterns as contributing to them being overweight, they will not be able to lose weight. 

If being overweight was really just simply metabolic, I'm sure medical research would be pouring billions of dollars into finding a step in that metabolic pathway to block and then BAM! SKINNY PEOPLE! But that's not happening, because it's not metabolic. 

And Angelman's, Prader-Willi and leptin deficiency? BOOM! CHROMOSOMAL DISORDERS! No cure, sorry. But when you don't have the ability to feel full, yes, of course you keep eating. 

Don't get the impression that I have a thing against fat people. Not at all. Yes, they might sometimes make my heart sink because they make my job harder. And yes, sometimes all their excuses make me want to beat my head against a wall. But the only reason I feel like this is because I've been on the other end of it. 

You only have to witness one failed resuscitation, of a young woman in her 50s, who had a heart attack because of her eating. Doing CPR on this lady, three times my size, while her family stand around me, crying and wailing, her children begging her "mum! wake up!", I only had to see that once to know that I would happily whip and beat every overweight person I come across to avoid that happening to another family. 

You only have to go to the amputations ward once, see the young men and women in their 40s and 50s, missing legs due to their diabetes, waiting on super large wheelchairs, going blind from their diabetes, crying about how they are dying because they can't stop eating, yet eating chocolates at the same time to comfort themselves. You only have to see that once to know that you will never care about making a fat person angry, or making them cry if that means that there is a slight chance of the message getting across. At night I weep for the people who are blind from their diabetes, who will never be able to look at their children again. 

Yes, I'm harsh. I'm the same with smokers. Seeing one lung cancer patient will do that to you. And I used to run lung cancer clinics. And by the time they get to me, I know they are going to die. These wonderful people, these wonderful caring people, RUINED by eating too much and smoking too much. So yes, I'm harsh. Because I'm trying to save them from themselves. If I don't tell them, then who will?

If women have a natural hourglass, curvy figure, great. If they are fat, then fuck, their fat. And if they don't face it then I will happily see them in hospital after their heart attack or stroke at 45 years of age, or when they are 50 and their knees are worn out because of the massive strain on them. And you know what, then they will have to face a lifetime of medication, and then they will have to face themselves. 

What goes around comes around sisters. And if people choose not to do something about their weight today, then they can face the consequences of that decision later.

I have old lady hips

"Love is like a bomb, baby, come on get it on!"

I'm exhausted on several levels. Just back from an awesome trip to Hong Kong. Went to Disneyland for the first time in my almost 23 years of life. It was just as magical as I thought it would be! I bought the Minnie Mouse ears and rode the Cinderella Carousel and I've never been happier in my life. 

Made myself a playlist of old rock music on the flight (which is what inspired the opening line) and listened to it for 6 hours. After listening to ACDC and Def Leppard and Black Sabbath and Guns'n'Roses and Queen and all of that, I just thought 'what's happened to music?'

Justin Bieber and Nicki Minaj and One Direction just doesn't seem to measure up. I had a great time just bathing in good music. Food wasn't so much a problem, I walked all day, everyday and didn't stuff my face like I thought I would. Still, I am constipated and I have a food baby so I'm too scared to weigh myself. All in all I think I'm pretty much the same as when I left. I'm desperately hoping to lose weight when I start work in a week's time. 

After 3 straight days of walking and a miserable 10 hour flight with lots of tossing and turning, my right hip feels terrifically unstable. Like it's going to dislocate at any moment. And my back is aching. I'm not yet 23 and my body is already falling apart. Sometimes I tell myself that it's because I'm so lazy and fat that it's too heavy for me to carry around. 

Hip and back troubles. I'm such an old lady. All I need is some gin and some stairs and then the transformation will be complete. I have no idea how I am going to walk up stairs, across a stage and down stairs tomorrow in towering platform stilettos but I shall definitely let you know if I end up face planting in front of my entire class. 

Meanwhile I am preparing myself for work and for impending weight loss. Hoping that my too small clothes will finally fit me! I would love to have clothes hang off me. Everything feels too fat. Makes me wonder if I will ever feel skinny? I don't even know what it might feel like to be skinny. Does it feel glorious? Does it feel better than sex? Does it feel better than the taste of hot buttered toast with clotted cream and jam? 

sugars, I'm going down!

Skinny...all the voices screaming....skinny. 

Well, I've been back here for all of one day and I'm already extremely glad that I'm back. I have so missed the support and the communication and being able to let my ED voice scream as much as it wants to. 

Wanted to let you all know that I am now 51.5kg. Going down! Going in the right direction! Faster than I had ever hoped for! 51.5kg!!!!!! I'm only 1.5kg away from 50kg which is a weight I've never been at before. In fact, what I weigh now is the lowest I've ever been. I have never been this low before and babes, I'm so not stopping here.

I couldn't sleep last night. Part of it was because of the 2 day hangover I have inflicted upon myself after drinking my own body weight in whiskey in Scotland over the weekend. The other part of it was because I was up for hours, feeling my bones. I have never been able to feel so many ribs. And even though none of my bones really stick out, I know they are closer to sticking out. 

One step closer! I'm going to keep this up, this is too good to let go. I haven't felt so happy for such a long time. Nothing, NOTHING compares to the joy of losing another pound, another kilo. 

I'm still not convinced I see much of a difference. But I have no full length mirror. Oh, and another thing. The bottom of my thighs no longer touch each other. It's not a massive step, because what really counts is when the top of your thighs don't touch. But for me, this is a sign that things are going well. The bottom of my thighs don't touch, even when my knees are touching. I'm loving this. 

For the first time in a long time I believe that I will get there one day. And now I see that when I start work at the end of this year, the weight loss will just continue. 

I love you all so much! And hold onto it, just hold on. Because even though things might seem terrible, joy will come with the promise of another pound off. I was once so down in the dumps, but now that I'm losing weight again, I'm so happy. I'm not even trying to hide it. I want people to see that I've lost weight. 

If nobody notices my weight loss when I get home, I will be seriously disappointed. But I have another 4 weeks to make it more obvious. And I will. 

naso-gastric consequences

My smile was taken long ago, if I can change I hope I never know. 

There's a hand on the back of my head, making sure I can't move away and a hand on my chin to stop me wriggling out. All down my nose and throat there is a trail of fire and pain and I clutch my vomit bucket with all my might. My stomach is heaving and my eyes are squeezing out tears at an alarming rate. 

"Swallow, swallow, swallow, swallow, swallow..." and I obey because the cold water is at least attempting to quell the flames. Then I vomit up all the water I have just swallowed but the voice keeps going, "swallow, swallow, swallow..." and I can feel the naso-gastric tube advancing further down my oesophagus. 

All that comes up in the aspirate is a tiny amount of coffee, enough to confirm the tube is in my stomach. People seem surprised that there wasn't more, but I didn't have any breakfast or lunch and the coffee was my only intake. The pain of NG tube insertion subsides, but the burning irritation remains. 

I gag some more as I pull it out and sip on cold water to calm myself. The things I do for my love of the art. Try a NG tube, they said, know what your patients go through, they said. 

His face flashes through my head the entire time. I wipe away at my watering eyes, disguising the fact that I'm crying a bit, almost glad that NG insertion makes everyone's eyes water. Somehow, sitting in the procedural skills room in the hospital, I'm transported to somewhere completely different. 

I can almost feel the fabric restraints on my wrists and ankles, the hand on my chin and the back of my head and that same awful tube advancing down my nose and into my stomach. I can feel the tears, the retching, the burning pain. I can see him standing at the door, afraid to enter the room but unable to look away. I can't turn away from him when everything is done because the restraints have been left in place so I close my eyes. 

I'm ashamed of myself, I don't know how things got this bad, how did I get this sick. But at the same time I feel a pulsating resistance within me. With every beat of my heart, for so many years, all I've craved is to be thin and I would do anything to stop people taking that away from me. Eyes still closed, I start to wonder if he's left but then I feel him wiping the cold sweat from my face. I ignore him. 

I don't ever want a NG tube again. And I'm scared of it now. But it brings another issue to light. Somehow I've come to rely on the professor. I'm projecting like mad. Just because he's nice to me, that doesn't mean he will transform into the father that I crave. It doesn't mean that he will be there for me on all the occasions that I imagine him to be. It doesn't mean anything except that he is a nice person. I think I need to work on extracting myself from anything to do with him. 

And see how all that goes. Lose weight. Lose weight. No food. Work out. No professor. Just study. And be thin, finally thin. 

I got my fist, I got my plan, I got survivalism.

This is the beginning of the end. 

How long has it been since my last post? A few days? Has she only been with me for a few days? 

Heart in my mouth, feet already numb with cold, I peel off my clothing and inch onto my scale. The digital numbers flicker on the display, and my heart races faster. I know I've been binging this week. In my mind I think of all the junk food I bought. In this moment it doesn't matter that I bought one takeaway meal and it took me 3 days to finish. All I know is that I ate like shit and I expect gains. Last week my weight was 125.7lbs. I brace myself. 

The small mechanical screech that tells me the judging is done. Reluctantly I look down. 121.4lbs. It can't be. I step off and think for a few moments. How much did I really eat Ana? I step back on the scale and once again it tells me 121.4lbs. I try again. 121.4lbs. 

The moment is bittersweet. I am happy that I lost weight. No other feeling can compare to the sight of a smaller number on the scale. Nothing compares to it. Nothing. It must be the same as the greatest orgasm ever. It must be the same as the heroin addict's high. But to me, this is so much better. I try to hold onto this moment, freeze the feeling into my brain so that I can recall it when I am eating and stop myself. 

Is there guilt? I used to feel guilt. I used to think of the professor and worry about what he thinks. I still love him. That hasn't changed. But now I don't worry. Not even his kisses and hugs can compare to this. There is no greater love than Ana's approval. 

But this moment isn't approval. Ana said I got lucky. I shouldn't be eating crap like that if I want to keep going. And I've learnt my lesson. 

I got my fist, I got my plan, I got survivalism. I know how to do this. I know I can do this. I've got my guardian angel know. I got this. 

prying open my third eye.

A child's rhyme stuck in my head, it said that life is but a dream. I've spent so many years in question to find I've known this all along. 

What if everything that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream. Old friend that I've known so long, have I been calling you the wrong name? But a rose by any other name would smell as sweet and you filled my bitter emptiness with your tar-like sludge. You filled me to the brim and flowed over into the world I share with everyone else. Even now I dare not whisper your dark name, your real name, the one you hid from me for so long. You are not my Ana, nor are you Mia, but you have masqueraded as both. 

But now I know you. Now I can smell your festering scent, I see the hideous wounds you have inflicted on the lives of others, I see that you dwell inside me, and have done for years now. Fiend, I do not expect you to leave me now, but to stay with me to whatever end. 

The past few years of my life stretch in my mind, a brilliant whiteness, filled with nothingness, no meaning, no content, no hope. Nothing but you. I don't love you. Certainly not the same way that I have love for Ana. But I accept you. 

Sitting in a familiar classroom, surrounded by familiar faces that I have no attachment to, a new sensation grips me. Reunions, filled with celebrations, filled with food, filled with calories. I had no company that day, all those people were nothing to me. I can't feel joy, not when I know there is food involved. 

Back in the same flat, with the same friend, the same habits threaten to slip back into place, so comfortably. Today, it was somehow different. Each time I eat now, an unquiet fills my body, an agitation shakes my bones. It's now all for show. That new sensation grips me again. It's a voice in my ear. It's a face in my head. It's filling my soul, it swirls around in the air I breathe. 

Fat, ugly, unworthy, you fucking stupid bitch. Fat and ugly. You stupid ugly pig. You're so fat that no man could ever find you attractive. You fat and ugly pig. 

Those same haunting words, yet the voice is different this time. It does not sound the same. It is just as callous, yet softer, and offering hope. 

You fat, ugly pig. Come here and let me embrace you. You don't need those who hate you, I am here to love you. I will love you for the rest of time, all you have to do is do what I ask of you. All you have to do is follow one simple rule. 
Don't eat. It's really not that hard. Don't eat and you will never be alone. Don't eat and you will always be loved. Don't eat and you will always be part of a family. Don't eat and you will be beautiful. Don't eat and you will be worthy. I will tuck you into bed each night. I will be there when you wake. I will make you all that you have ever wanted to be. 

Dear Ana. Hello. It's nice to meet you at last. I've been waiting for you for so long. Now that I've heard your voice, and tasted your bittersweet promises, I will never let you go. 

Each day is filled with a new kind of torment, one that never really existed before now. I have made the conscious decision not to eat for a long time now. This is the first time I've been unable to eat. I cannot binge. I hate the idea of food. There is no joy in eating. There is no pleasure in being full. I am afraid now, afraid that people will make me eat. 

Now it is not a choice. Now it is a need. 

thinspiration: tattoo

Quite a few of you have said that you like tattooed thinspo. I've been thinking of posting a purely thinspo post for a while now, so here are some beautiful tattooed girls to keep us all movtivated! 

babe, I'm going down!

...because there is no such thing as too thin. 

Ah, after all this time, there is still no feeling that can compare to stepping on the scale and seeing a lower number than yesterday. There is no thrill, no rush, no high that can come close to seeing the number on the scales get smaller and smaller. And my skinny babes, I'm on my way down. 

In the space of this week, I've gone down from 57kg to 54kg. It's not good enough, but, it's a start. I've started restricting again. Restricting old school style, who cares about eating a million little meals of few calories, I'm not eating at all. And it's damn well working. I'm homestaying right now for a few weeks and the way my schedule works is that I can skip breakfast and lunch. I go out and walk for an hour at lunchtime instead of eating. And I have dinner, but the portions here are pretty small and pretty damn healthy as all the food comes from the garden in the back yard. 

I'm drunk on tea and chewing gum. I'm relieved to be finally going down again. I'm relieved at how easy it is. 54kg. I wanted to be 50kg by the time I left for England. If I can keep this pace up, I will be less than that. Jumping up and down in the bathroom, I'm elated. 

There is a lightness that comes with this. A mental, emotional lightness. I'm on my way home - that's what this feels like. I'm on my way to the thinness that I call home, a weight at which I will feel safe and happy. 

I rest my head on his chest and he wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tightly. "It's abnormal, say it." And I whisper these words with closed eyes. He sighs quietly and rests his chin on my head. "You're looking healthier, not healthy yet, but healthier." He can't hide his happiness at seeing my weight gain. I feel like crying. I love seeing him happy, and I know he will be upset when I lose weight again. But for now I cling to him. Sometimes it feels like he's all I've got in this world. 

There is a restlessness that is filling every cell of my body. I've started doing things that in hindsight are all steps in hiding weight loss to others, but highlighting it to myself. I'm buying large sweaters which hide my body, but I'm also buying skin tight dresses that at too small for me. I can't wait to fit them. 

I can tell my abdomen is flatter. I can tell. But not enough, I can still grab handfuls of fat. But I'm on my way babes. And you are all coming with me. 

you and me. we're in this together now. none of them can stop us now.

...we will make it through somehow. 

Before I launch into this post I want to start off by tying up a few ends. 

Firstly, I want to say hello to any new followers! I looked today and suddenly realised that I have 91 followers now. I'm stunned. Hello, thank you so much for following my blog, please leave a comment and I will follow your blog right back. 

Secondly, I want to say a big thank you to everybody. I really do. I must admit that Andrea's comments threw me wildly. I went to a really low place for a while after reading them. I felt so useless. Reading what she said, well, I'm already miserable, and I know that what I am doing is bad, but if getting a boyfriend and perking up would be enough to snap me out of this, then why wasn't I good enough to do just that? I felt like such a worthless, useless, incompetent mess that I would be better off not existing. I have never known such strong suicidal urges. 

I can't say I'm over it, I can't say I'm not still suicidal. I've been cutting more and more and I can feel the old grip of depression creeping in. But. I've also made myself a plan to lose weight. For now, if I can get a grip on my weight, then I can start to get a grip on other things. For now, I need to focus on one small thing at a time to drag myself through thiss. 

Thirdly, I want to say sorry for my absence. For a while there I really did think I was going to end my life and I didn't want to come here and be talked out of it by anyone. I didn't want to post any sort of message that some people might think to be attention seeking. When I end my life, it will be my choice, and there will be no apologies to anyone. 

At any rate, I return to you all with renewed vigor and determination. Just like the way I've titled this post. This is you and me. We're in this together now. None of them can stop us now. We will make it through somehow. We're fighting a battle that no one can see. That doesn't make it any less real. We are all doing it together. Though we are apart physically, we are all striving for the same thing, we live and breath for the same thing. We are linked together by a common thread that separates us from the rest of the world. And I know for sure that I cannot do this without the knowledge that you are all out there, sending me love, wishing me the best. And I do the same for you all, every second of every day. 

In a strange way, this blog has prolonged my life significantly. This knowledge makes me want to wake up in the morning and give it all another go. And I can't thank you all enough for that. I hope that you all can appreciate that. 

I think this is all I can say for now. I am still struggling with the cutting, and the can of worms that comes with that. I am still somewhat scared and wary of posting anything on this blog because I don't want to read comments like that again. I'm scared by how they affected me and I'm scared of how I may react in the future. When you can no longer trust your one outlet of self expression, everything gets thrown up in the air. 

So I bid you goodbye from this post, with the promise that I will post again, and that like you, each fibre of my being longs to be thin and fears food and the consequences of eating. 

too fat for words

The 100 Day Challenge

Stuff taking a break. It's too hard to take a break when all I can think about is losing weight and being so freaking fat. 

I was reading a blog called "Too Fat For Words" and she was talking about this 100 day challenge. 100 days to get to a set of goals. This is just what I need to keep myself motivated. It's a nice way of staying focused. I'm going to Bristol in 20 weeks. That's 140 days. And I do not want to look this fat and ugly when I go. This is awful. I will be lovely and thin for Bristol. 

So if I start on Monday, then I will have about 39 days to spare at the end of the challenge to squeeze a little bit more weight off and get myself sorted itinerary wise. Meanwhile, for the next 100 days, I can focus on my weight and finally do something that I can be proud of.

These are my goals:

1. I currently weigh 125lbs. I want to weigh 90lbs when I leave. I must lose 35lbs.

2. Finish that goddamn paper that I've been working on as long as I can remember

3. Be able to do the splits on both legs. 

4. Book hotels for the week before I start work in Bristol. 

5. GAP BETWEEN MY THIGHS EVEN IF IT KILLS ME!!!! 

6. Fit into size 6 jeans. (NZ size 6. This is the smallest size you can buy here without getting children's sizes.)

At 90lbs I want:

1. To be able to see 4 ribs without stretching up or sucking in.

2. To be able to see my spine easily when I bend over. 

3. To have my hip bones stick out.

4. For there to be an almighty gap between my thighs. 

5. To be able to see my arm muscles. 

6. Concave stomach. 

And I will do this in 100 days. In just over 14 weeks. That's 2.5lbs each week. I will do this. I will do this. 

suicidal fantasies

"I want you to know I'm not through the night. Sometimes I'm still fighting to walk towards the light."

There is a deep, primal grumbling beneath me. The jagged rocks cut into my bare feet, I can barely feel them due to the cold. It's a bitter wind, it's a biting wind, it's a bracing wind. It is one last kiss from life. An icy kiss to farewell me from a life that never loved me. 

It's my hometown. It's the place where I grew up. And here I recall a childhood of ignorant bliss, muddy football stained t-shirts and cream cakes and scraped knees. A time where size and weight were irrelevant and calories were still mysteries held by the universe. And here I recall leaving that behind and entering a different world that was not so kind and not so forgiving. 

School balls and Valentines and boyfriends and shopping malls. Those were never meant for a girl like me. They were not part of my world of textbooks and calculators and tutors and exams. I'm not sure if I ever lusted after them. 

Years of trouble. Taunting. Teasing. Loathing. Hatred. Self-harm. Now I am old enough to recognise it as abuse. At the hands of my classmates, my so-called friends, my family. One day I'm stupid. One day I'm fat. One day I'm ugly. One day I'm unworthy. Everyday I am something that I wish I was not. This is what became my reality. 

If my reality is a cage from which I cannot escape then I care not to know what the general populus knows as reality. Because it is irrelevant. 

The grumbling beneath me grows, the stones I stand on start to tremble, my heart begins to race, my body begins to shake with the adrenalin that pumps through me. Automatic and accurate, one foot moves in front of the other and I wriggle them once I am balancing on the smooth metal railings of salvation. 

I want to dance. I have never felt so full of anticipation, so powerful. Now I understand that none of it ever mattered. In this moment in time, none of it ever mattered and I am happy. There is no doubt. There is no regret. There is no shame or sorrow. I am finally getting what I want. 

It's so close. I can hear it now. The vibration down the line is like electricity coursing through my veins. Under my breath I hum that dear old tune that's kept me comfortable for years "she's got a ticket to ride and she don't care". 

I can't see. The light is too bright. I can't hear anything but my heartbeat above the roar fast approaching. The dense night air rushes towards me, carrying with it the promise of resolution. 

I spread my arms to embrace whatever may come. 

I think of all those I love. 

The one promise I did keep - I loved them till whatever end. 

I am engulfed by the light and the noise. 

One big hum. 

The cold becomes warmth. 

The light becomes darkness. 

The heartbeat slows. 

This is freedom of choice. 

I have never been so happy.