Facebook says I am 'in a relationship'
So, everyone knows; it's not a secret, it's not being kept quite, it's not a rumour, it's not gossip.
It's there now, in black and white.
Ophelia is in a relationship with Alex
There we go, dear readers, after all the endless posts of turmoil, lust and heartbreak, it's happened.
Ophelia has a boyfriend.
Tonight I have cried. Uncontrollably weeping on my bedroom floor. Like the Drama Queen I am.
Crying because I know I can't do this.
I can't keep up the act. I can't keep up the lie. I'm trying to think up excuses not to see him this weekend because I am too fat, because I am too sad, because I am in too much pain.
I've been spending almost every other night at his. And this week the cracks have begun to show... I can't keep it up - this happiness thing - it doesn't understand me.
I should be the happiest girl in the world. For I am the luckiest girl in the world. I have the kindest, sweetest, most loyal and faithful boyfriend who is head-over-heels in love with me. And truth be told, yes, I love him just as much.
But every time I leave him, I feel sick and empty. Because every time I leave him I have to step from the bright, free world of love and joy to the dark, sick world of Ophelia. It's like every time I leave I step back into the murky river, swallowed up by the suffocating, muddy water.
It is more than just this world, this reality, which made me cry. It is more:
I have always craved a relationship - because I craved support, love and security.
My posts always stated it
I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to be held in someone's arms.
I want to be held in someone's arms. For comfort. Because they see how much I'm suffering. Because they love me. Because they understand. Because I'm not just a drama queen to them.
I want to be held in someone's arms. I want to be safe. Protected from myself.
I just want to be held in someone's arms.
But there is no-one.
I hated being alone. I hated having no one to turn to...
Now, I have Alex
Ophelia does not have someone on the end of the phone.
She cannot call him when the tears are rolling down her face. I cannot put on her voice when I talk to him. I cannot show him the flowers chained around my neck and wrists, pulling me down, drowing me... or rather, he does not have the ability to see them.
I am still just as alone as I was before.
Alex will never make me whole because he does not know what makes up the biggest part of me - my eating disorder, my depression, my anxiety, my BDD.
When he touches my body, he touches bliss, not sadness and sickness.
And all my body is, is quite simply, sadness and sickness.
The house smells of disinfectant:
I dug out my faithful pen knife - unused for so long - and cleaned it, because the craving for fresh wounds had returned.
Alex would be devastated if he saw the neat red marks.
You know, I knew I wouldn't make it through this year at law school. I went to my doctor on the 13th November 2009 and told him so. Nearly six months later, and the year is nearly over. And I am still on the list 'waiting'. I asked for help. I asked for help. And have cried on my own for another six months... and who knows how much longer...
I should be the happiest girl in the world.
And when I lie to myself and to Alex,
I am so in love with Alex. I know it seems fast. But it's me, it's him, it's the power and the passion and the intensity that burns me up and scorches everything I touch. He said it, I love you. And I know it, I feel it... it hurts me.
The happier he makes me, the more it hurts to leave; the more he loves me, the futher I sink below the water when I'm alone.
Now I have the perfect relationship and perfect man and perfect love, the demons are back inside my head stronger than ever. I've not felt this weak and depressed in a long, long time. I'm struggling.
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