Love,
Brian
(Your Pillsbury)

Notes:

* I think that "Here's to the Night" song came out while we were still close friends and I kind of remember a certain emotion-charged night involving that song so maybe that's what he's referring to, I really have no idea though. Hmm...

** "Pillsbury" (Brian) and "Pillsburette" (me) were nicknames we made up in 8th grade. It was a sarcastic joke like, 'haha, I'm so fat I'm like the Pillsbury Dough Boy' (he was skinny as a rail and probably still is) and then we made up the equivalent female version for me (because I was "skinny" and "not at all fat" according to him so it was funny - although of course, I didn't really feel skinny but whatever). I know this sounds totally stupid but you uh... had to be there. Anyway, they stuck, and that's what he's referring to.

It's one of those nights where I am alone and feeling sorry for myself. Sitting here, awake at 6am having not gone to bed, realizing the tiny life I lead. And it's really painful to know that even though Brian is trying to reach out, and even though I want desperately for a friend right now in FLESH AND BLOOD that I can see and hug and not just talk to online (though I love my friends online, without them I'd be dead, but I think you know what I mean...), someone to be there to help me SURVIVE each day, now it's "too late" -- or so it feels. I mean realistically, he's in Arizona. Sure we could talk on the phone, but when you haven't had a close friendship with someone for over 2 years, and then you try to "rekindle" it, not living close is a huge disadvantage. I mean for all that time we lived within 2 minutes of each other yet we didn't talk, didn't hang out, didn't even SEE each other. And, what's more ironic, is I babysat for his neighbors, so I was right next door to him several days a week, but I still didn't see him. I'm not saying I won't try. I started to write him back when I first got that letter, because it was the final "push" I needed to actually fucking write the damn letter, which I had been thinking of doing for months. But, like everything else, I didn't finish. I wrote pages and pages (small pages though, lol) but I still haven't finished. I do intend to try to finish that up this morning though, and mail it today. It was kind of nice to have the long weekend because I didn't feel so guilty for mailing it on Saturday since it would be about as fast as mailing it on Tuesday anyway. But there is no more excuse to not mailing it today, so I'm really going to try. I was disappointed he didn't leave his number in the letter but I can understand I guess. Just sending that was putting himself in a very vulnerable position (you have to understand all the shit that went on...). Right now, I want nothing more than to fly out to Arizona and just see if we really can "put the past behind us" and be friends again. I miss him so much it hurts, as I do with Nick (can't get into him now...), but I just don't know if it's possible to really go back to the way things were. I guess I'll have to wait till November and see.

Much more sobering are my TEETH. Yes, yet another thing I was naive about, and thought that I was just immune to the problems *other* people faced with purging. Because, basically, I appear to be. But I know that most problems... you can't see. I just prefer to turn a blind eye to it and carry on doing these stupid things. Mostly because I know that I cannot cope without purging. Right now "coping" in a self-destructive way that causes bad teeth seems a lot better than resorting back to cutting or making half-assed suicide attempts because I feel like I want to die all the time, yet know that deep down I am unsure, and therefore too afraid to just get it the fuck over with (and getting stuck in that horrible Mills psych ward in the process, which is probably where they'd send me). Most of the time I'm too frightened to even look at my teeth, to be brutally honest. I prefer to just brush them without really looking, and I certainly never "inspect" them for signs of receding gums, worn enamel, etc. The feelings I get when eating are enough to tell me they're in bad shape. I've had really sensitive teeth for a long time now but this is even worse. There are definitely major problems... tonight I used a mirrored lipstick to look in on the backs of my front teeth, the capped ones. Thank god I have caps... or else... I shudder to think what my teeth would be by now. I felt like throwing up (oh how appropriate) when I saw the damage. See, when I was in 10th grade and I got the caps, Dr. Childers had to basically file down my teeth to little stubs. So they would be "stronger" to hold the caps, or something. I can't really remember why now because this was so long ago, but anyway, he made me teeth little stumps of teeth, and then they fasted the caps on. 4 all in front, on the top. So that's good in a way because the damage occurring to my front 4 teeth are all "fake" teeth. Except the fact that there are actually teeth under there, obviously. So anyway, I look at my teeth using that lipstick and I see this little black spot on the back of one of my teeth. I think, oh, it's a bit of food. I try to scrape it off. But it won't budge. Not food. This thing is tiny and I can't see it from the front obviously, so I don't know how long it's been there. Strangely, it feels just like my normal tooth when I run my tongue over it. So I got to thinking what it could be. I have two conclusions. I am hoping it's the first one. The "best case" scenario here, I guess, is that my fake took has had so many layers worn down on it from purging that the fixadent/cement/whatever that was used to fasten the cap onto my tooth stub is now exposed a little. Which, obviously, is not great. What's scarier though is that if that is true, then all that is between my vulnerable tooth stub and the cap is now a little fixadent, and the cap is done completely (in that tiny area, that is). I don't think my tooth, the real tooth under there, would last too long exposed to all the acid my other teeth have been. I mean this is a little stub that has been covered with a cap for over 2 years and I doubt it's a very "healthy" tooth at this point. So removing the caps would be bad. But even worse, what if that is my TOOTH!? What if that little black is what my tooth now LOOKS LIKE, underneath the cap?! I hope that is not the case. I don't know if that's even possible. A black tooth? I don't think so. I think that I could like, notice if my tooth had rotted away. So it's probably the fixadent stuff. Which is still really bad because how am I going to explain that I need a new cap (probably need 4 new ones, actually) because I have worn holes in the other ones from purging so much??? Not to mention, I cannot afford that and neither can my mom. And I do not want my dad knowing, which he'd have to if I really needed the caps, because I know my mom would say we had to tell him so he'd help pay. Uggh uggh uggh shoot me now please! It gets worse. After the shock of that initial little black spot (I want to make it clear there is not some huge black thing on my tooth because at this point I am sure I sound absolutely disgusting and have caused people to puke from reading this)... I looked closer. There are identical black spots at the root of the tooth where it meets the gum at the root of my mouth. On both the front ones. Again, I think this is the fixadent stuff used to fasten the caps. But obviously it is not supposed to be exposed like that. It never was before :( And on the front, the part you actually see, I can see how much my gums have receded because there is now a space between where my gum ends and the cap begins on my 4 front teeth. So I can see the very tops of my real teeth underneath the caps. It used to be that the top of the cap went up into the gum line to look like a natural tooth. If I hadn't had the caps I probably wouldn't be able to tell for sure if they had indeed receded... but because of that gap it's undeniable. I hate myself so mad. Because I know it's my fault. And I just am terrified of how my mom & dad will react when I finally do get into a dentist for "the cleaning" and all this shit is put on the table. I guess they know I have some teeth problems already, well, obviously, considering the recent root canal I had. And the other "minor" root canal I had before that. This most recent one was just so hellish. The infection would not clear up and my gum is still inflamed from it, when it should have healed weeks ago. Not to mention that root canals are not supposed to be something you deal with until you're like, middle aged, according to the dental hygienist, anyway... but I knew that the troubles wouldn't stop there. At my last visit to the dentist, when he finally put the permanent crown on the tiny stub of a tooth that was left (I don't understand root canals, and no one explained it to me, but all I know is that he went into my gum, it hurt a fucking lot before, during, and after, and now I have a stub of a tooth and an ugly crown covering it), he then looked over my teeth, as all dentists can't seem to resist doing (no matter what procedure you're in for), and said, in a gentle but worried voice, "Ok Ruth, you're all done. But make sure you schedule a cleaning before you leave. I think that you are a little past due on that." (he was just being nice, we both know I am way past due as I have been avoiding the bi-yearly cleanings for nearly 2 years now... uggh). The "cleanings" are where all the shit really happens, of course. All the "you need to floss more" and "your gums are receding" and "you have no enamel left on this tooth" crap would come out. So you can bet your ass I conveniently "forgot" to do that once again. I've decided to switch dentists. Even though Dr. Childers is very nice and would probably be sympathetic to why my teeth are horrible, it's just too much to have to face him. I'd rather go to someone I don't know and just get it off my chest from the start like, "Yes, I have an eating disorder, and yes, I purge, and yes, I know my teeth are damaged. Just fix them please, as best you can." Anyway, I could tell from the silence while he was looking at my teeth and his voice and facial expression afterwards, that he could tell right off the bat, after that short look, that something was damaged/wrong/bad (I don't fucking know).... Again, I pushed it out of my head as soon as I got home. Way too fucking scary to think about the prospect of having my teeth all fall out if I don't stop puking, and feeling like I can't do it. I'm not a vain person and I could care less if I have "pretty teeth" (I've hated my teeth as long as I can remember and even getting 4 caps didn't appease me so I pretty much gave up on ever liking my teeth, or smile, which is why I RARELY smile with teeth showing) but having them actually like, rot out of my mouth, is not a pleasant thought.

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