weakness

I used to think I had to be strong. I had to act sane, even when I was psychotic. For a brief six months, I laid my weaknesses open to everyone, and I ruined lives. And so I assumed that weaknesses were not okay.
I didn't go to school this morning because I was so sick with puking and the laxatives that I couldn't leave the bathroom. It was partly laxatives, partly some sort of flu thing, partly exhaustion. The pie I made for pi day (rhubarb, my favorite) sits in the fridge, and I missed math. I'm going to school as soon as one of my parents contacts me (they have the cars), so I'll take it in after school.
But from years of keeping everything inside, trying to convince myself that I had to be strong, I'm not going to do that today. Today I am weak.
I AM WEAK TODAY AND I DON'T CARE. Maybe occasional weaknesses are part of recovery. Right now, I've decided that I can't eat. I just can't. It makes me feel out of control, and when I feel out of control everything falls apart. I feel better now, thinking about control again.

I want someone to hold me, but not like I'm delicate. I'm not. I'm not delicate at all. I may be weak, but I'm not breakable. I want somone to hold me so hard it crushes my ribs and lungs and leaves me as a mass of bloody, pulpy, splintered bone.
No one will of course. No on would dare to care that much about me.