For breakfast I had made myself icecream--wtf?, you might ask, but you see I was happy that morning. Too often for me, happiness=recklessness.

And then comes a stroke of fate, I suppose, when my mother got angry. She is the type of person who can explode at you for a split second, and then be fine the next. But in that split second I lose my appetite, and for many seconds after I think about the disgusting thing I have poised to enter my mouth. I shove the icecream in the freezer.

Fast forward to approximately 12 hours later. After going on a nice little family walk in a park, we stop by Baskin Robbins armed with coupons. Again she gets mad, just for a second. I was sort of cranky from getting bug bites, and really it was just a glitch in a conversation. Nibbled by one spoonful, ignored on the car ride, and again shoved into the icy safe.

So counting only solid foods, I've had one roll of bread today. Not that eating icecream instead of meals would be any healthier...

I don't mean to make my mother sound like a horrible person, because she isn't at all and I couldn't imagine a better mom. Everyone has faults. My fault is that I can't cope with the silliest things. I think I might be emotionally retarded...

I have an idea as to why I can't eat when people around me are upset. The decision, which was already tentative, is reversed by mental force. Thinking about Ana takes me away from where I am, from what's around me. Suddenly the world is consumed by my corporeal body and my mental soul. The transparency of my hand, revealing bones and veins, becomes an enchanting work of art. The empty peace of my stomach, the frailty in my core--it helps convince me that I can disappear. When the world outside is storming, peeling away layers into the rawness of life...perhaps I can just disappear.