Words begin to blur together. Dripping down the page, liquid shadows forming in a puddle at my feet. Mind buzzing, I cannot focus. Drifting for an eternity in a world of sharp edges and static. My heart a constant dull thump, echoing through my body. I cannot walk a straight line anymore. Tripping over motes of dust, flakes of skin fallen to my carpet. I awaken in the morning with hair on my pillow case. If I had any sense, I'd fear this slow and steady entropy.

My bones ache with nothing to protect them. Muscles refusing to respond. My stomach reduced once more to the size of a golf ball. Solid food sends me running for my temple built of porcelain. I cannot keep anything down. My body is rejecting all forms of nutrition.

I lay silently in my bed and beg the world to stop spinning around me. Each time I stand the edges of reality blur and I am forced to grasp the edge of my desk. Ground forever tilting as darkness dances at the edge of my vision. Theres no one to catch me if my knees weaken. Holding onto the desk so tightly that my knuckles will hurt once I finally let go.

Exhaustion is a constant in this dizzying place. My body taking as many resources as it can just to stay functional. I cannot remember when anything solid last settled inside of me. And I wonder how much chaos I am creating within. I think of heart failures and collapsed fallopian tubes. I am trying to recall every nightmare that set me on the road to health. One shaking footstep at a time until I could stand without fear of falling.

Turn around twice and I'm slipping again. Back into the depths I once worked so hard to crawl out of. Eat, they beg of me. Offers of salvation hidden in each calorie. How do you explain that it is physically painful for you to swallow. That you have simply lost all appetite. Saltwater staining my shirt as I plead for them to believe me. I haven't fallen back into old patterns, I simply cannot eat. My body is rejecting everything. My stomach is collapsing from the inside out.

Bile forever rising in the back of my throat. A constant stabbing pain hidden behind my eyes. I try to focus on your words and understand what you are telling me. Can you hear the exhaustion in my voice when I try to respond? Can you see the fear that glistens in the darkness of my eyes?

90 even. There is no euphoria this time. I cannot recall what it's like to be warm. These words are melting before my eyes. Your voice is nothing more than a distant whisper and I have to ask you to repeat yourself. 90, and there is no joy. There is the knowledge that my body cannot withstand another devastation. I lay in bed and trace the edges of my hips. My fingers resting between the gaps in my ribs. Skin stretched so tightly over my bones I fear it might snap like a rubber band. The room continually spinning as I huddle under 2 comforters and shiver.

Try and eat. Pray that it stays down. For once I can understand that 90 is too low. Too dangerous to risk. But my body ignores my silent pleas. The world still spinning as I fall into a restless slumber. Praying for my stomach to settle. For an end to this slide into oblivion. I used to refuse food with pride. Now I spend my days longing for the return of my appetite. A soft voice echoing through the caverns of my mind... your body cannot survive this again.