14 August 2011
Free
I want to run until I feel the chains sliding off me, till the wind is all I hear. I need to escape from my thoughts, forget everything that causes my pain. I need to be sure of something again. I want to pretend that I can handle life by doing something radical. I need to stop being reckless, with my thoughts as well as my actions. I need to feel success infecting every inch of my scarred body, pouring out of every wrinkle and pore. I want a life free of self-hate and self-mutilation and self-destruction and self-medication.
8 August 2011
Purge
Welcome back, bulimia monster: the pestering house guest everyone wishes would leave, except no one knows what to do with themselves once it's gone. You grow comfortable with those routines; you learn to accept the schedule; you become skilled in merging aspects of the old life with the intrusion. You know your patterns, habits, triggers. You're constantly jumping at opportunities to cheat and bounce back up with the help of your finger. You don't stop until you feel yourself dry heaving, until your knuckle is scraped raw, until your knees, imprinted with carpet or sliding on the tiles, shake and surrender. But in your head, you are king; in your head, you should keep going because the only thing in the way of your success is your own strength.
For two days, I couldn't not purge. And when I purged, the post-purge disgusting feelings that keep me from eating my next meal were overpowered by the need to shove my hand down my throat. So I kept eating and going back and forth between my room and the kitchen, the bathroom and the grocery store. Last night, I didn't think I would be able to keep that granola bar and apple down, despite every effort to be normal. But I did; I kept it down, and the regret made me feel like puking all over again. The disappointment I felt left me trembling and shuddering...if only I could be this disciplined when it came to restricting. I hope the sudden outburst of purging has ended because that sickness is addicting. Besides, it never puts me at ease because I can't count the calories in the toilet bowl. I don't know why I tried to make myself throw up that first time over a year ago, but whatever compelled me must have been so overpowering because I swore to myself purging would be the one thing I would never attempt. And now that the first time is over and done with, the slope becomes slippery; I find myself wanting to continue.
My throat really suffered this weekend: after purging on Friday and continuing throughout the day, I went out and drank that night. My throat wasn't feeling too horrible, just a little congested. But more purging and a hell of a shot and my throat was on fire. I will never again drink Goldschlager, especially if I had been purging. That thing tastes like 100 melted cinnamon hearts blazing, making a fire trail down your intestines.
I'm still finding life overwhelming. I need to take care of so many things, and I'm just going out or sitting on my bed...but even that is an upgrade. I'm not hating everything and everyone around me as much, and I'm willing to make baby steps. I found so many times this week that my patience was going to run out, especially when I was with my sister -- my family is my trigger, and I wanted so badly to have a fit over multiple little things, but I realized that these problems I have are just that: little. My perception has been skewed for so long, and I'm relatively done with being on the edge of these uncontrollable emotions. I really want to believe that this power is coming from within myself, but I'm scared that I'm just having one of those invincible weeks that come with borderline. I feel this time is different because I'm seeing the flaws within myself and working to control myself instead of just feeling bulletproof. I need to write a letter to receive a grant for school because I messed up last year so badly. I have to explain why this year will be different, why I'm in a better place...I've been putting it off because I never knew how I was going to feel the next day: I wasn't sure if I was actually better and up for this year. But now I know -- more or less, but everyone has doubts. I need to find an apartment, and that's probably the biggest challenge because once I'm all set in the city, I know I will be going to school; there will be no more room for a change in plans.
Isobel, thank you for that comment last month: I'm already feeling happier. I think that burden of having planned my death before this birthday was weighing down on me and making me go crazy. Now that I'm not living day-to-day and making decisions based on that looming date, I feel more free...I'm just hoping this good feeling will continue :).
Sarah, haha you made me smile. Yes to periods. Ya, I know that attitude is crap and I should focus more long-term than short-term, but if you don't feel the burn and the pain in the short-term, you're setting yourself up for failure because you won't be giving it your all. I shouldn't be that harsh though; you're right. Two weeks is really just the starting point :).
For two days, I couldn't not purge. And when I purged, the post-purge disgusting feelings that keep me from eating my next meal were overpowered by the need to shove my hand down my throat. So I kept eating and going back and forth between my room and the kitchen, the bathroom and the grocery store. Last night, I didn't think I would be able to keep that granola bar and apple down, despite every effort to be normal. But I did; I kept it down, and the regret made me feel like puking all over again. The disappointment I felt left me trembling and shuddering...if only I could be this disciplined when it came to restricting. I hope the sudden outburst of purging has ended because that sickness is addicting. Besides, it never puts me at ease because I can't count the calories in the toilet bowl. I don't know why I tried to make myself throw up that first time over a year ago, but whatever compelled me must have been so overpowering because I swore to myself purging would be the one thing I would never attempt. And now that the first time is over and done with, the slope becomes slippery; I find myself wanting to continue.
My throat really suffered this weekend: after purging on Friday and continuing throughout the day, I went out and drank that night. My throat wasn't feeling too horrible, just a little congested. But more purging and a hell of a shot and my throat was on fire. I will never again drink Goldschlager, especially if I had been purging. That thing tastes like 100 melted cinnamon hearts blazing, making a fire trail down your intestines.
I'm still finding life overwhelming. I need to take care of so many things, and I'm just going out or sitting on my bed...but even that is an upgrade. I'm not hating everything and everyone around me as much, and I'm willing to make baby steps. I found so many times this week that my patience was going to run out, especially when I was with my sister -- my family is my trigger, and I wanted so badly to have a fit over multiple little things, but I realized that these problems I have are just that: little. My perception has been skewed for so long, and I'm relatively done with being on the edge of these uncontrollable emotions. I really want to believe that this power is coming from within myself, but I'm scared that I'm just having one of those invincible weeks that come with borderline. I feel this time is different because I'm seeing the flaws within myself and working to control myself instead of just feeling bulletproof. I need to write a letter to receive a grant for school because I messed up last year so badly. I have to explain why this year will be different, why I'm in a better place...I've been putting it off because I never knew how I was going to feel the next day: I wasn't sure if I was actually better and up for this year. But now I know -- more or less, but everyone has doubts. I need to find an apartment, and that's probably the biggest challenge because once I'm all set in the city, I know I will be going to school; there will be no more room for a change in plans.
Isobel, thank you for that comment last month: I'm already feeling happier. I think that burden of having planned my death before this birthday was weighing down on me and making me go crazy. Now that I'm not living day-to-day and making decisions based on that looming date, I feel more free...I'm just hoping this good feeling will continue :).
Sarah, haha you made me smile. Yes to periods. Ya, I know that attitude is crap and I should focus more long-term than short-term, but if you don't feel the burn and the pain in the short-term, you're setting yourself up for failure because you won't be giving it your all. I shouldn't be that harsh though; you're right. Two weeks is really just the starting point :).
1 August 2011
Period
Oh the pain a period brings. At least the worry in the back of my head that my nights of drunkenness led to pregnancy is gone. There's my paranoia for you: still a virgin, but afraid of being preggers. But I guess it could happen.
I've been debating whether or not I should buy a scale. Idk what's holding me back really, no concrete reason; I just feel uneasy about the whole ordeal.
Speaking of ordeals: each day brings me closer to September, which means moving out of my comfy current apartment downtown into a new one about 6 hours away so I can go back to the school that did nothing good for me. I feel so overwhelmed even trying to plan a trip up there to look at apartments...that's my problem nowadays: I'm too overwhelmed, even to post here, and that's why often times I don't. The only thing that takes no effort on my part is lying in bed as the sun rises and sets and shit gets done by other people, so I indulge in this outrageous lifestyle. After all, nothing can be expected of me if I have no job, break ties with my mother and discourage friends from asking me to come out.
I hoped that my best friend (who I think I only hold on to after over a year of not seeing him because he's the person who annoys me the least) would live in Toronto by now. But no -- his inability to take care of anything unless it's laid out in front of him on a silver platter is aggravating and tiring. He says he'll come down here for a week (I guess to see me since he won't have a chance to once summer's up?)...but his plans rarely come into fruition (once again, the silver platter thing).
I have 2 weeks to be a fitter me. If I haven't smartened up by then, I'm useless. I'm meeting the person who used to live in my room at that time, as well as seeing his brother whom I haven't seen since moving in, and I just want someone to look at me and say "Woah, you've changed." I want to feel the gratification spread through my body, my head to swell up and know I'm doing something right. I'm also going to look at apartments for the new school year some time this month, and I'm seeing people I haven't seen since March. I need to make an impression. And when I go back again in September, I need to look even better. I hope and I pray that thin will take me back to the days when I was unstoppable, to the days when I could at least get out of bed.
I've been debating whether or not I should buy a scale. Idk what's holding me back really, no concrete reason; I just feel uneasy about the whole ordeal.
Speaking of ordeals: each day brings me closer to September, which means moving out of my comfy current apartment downtown into a new one about 6 hours away so I can go back to the school that did nothing good for me. I feel so overwhelmed even trying to plan a trip up there to look at apartments...that's my problem nowadays: I'm too overwhelmed, even to post here, and that's why often times I don't. The only thing that takes no effort on my part is lying in bed as the sun rises and sets and shit gets done by other people, so I indulge in this outrageous lifestyle. After all, nothing can be expected of me if I have no job, break ties with my mother and discourage friends from asking me to come out.
I hoped that my best friend (who I think I only hold on to after over a year of not seeing him because he's the person who annoys me the least) would live in Toronto by now. But no -- his inability to take care of anything unless it's laid out in front of him on a silver platter is aggravating and tiring. He says he'll come down here for a week (I guess to see me since he won't have a chance to once summer's up?)...but his plans rarely come into fruition (once again, the silver platter thing).
I have 2 weeks to be a fitter me. If I haven't smartened up by then, I'm useless. I'm meeting the person who used to live in my room at that time, as well as seeing his brother whom I haven't seen since moving in, and I just want someone to look at me and say "Woah, you've changed." I want to feel the gratification spread through my body, my head to swell up and know I'm doing something right. I'm also going to look at apartments for the new school year some time this month, and I'm seeing people I haven't seen since March. I need to make an impression. And when I go back again in September, I need to look even better. I hope and I pray that thin will take me back to the days when I was unstoppable, to the days when I could at least get out of bed.
25 July 2011
Failure
Why do I keep this blog? Look at me: less than 3 days and I'm already done. All of my planning, the things I wanted for my 19th year...all a waste because I'm back in hell.
I need help with my borderline disorder. But I can't let go of this "perceived control." I like to think that at least I'm not using meds to keep order. Too bad that there is no fucking order. I need help thinking, breathing without hyperventilating, showering every day (yes, I can be at that level of disgusting...but who needs to shower when they spend all day in their fucking bed?)
I really am pathetic. If I'm not binging on food, I'm being a slut (or at least thinking of it), or drinking like a fiend. Thank the lord almighty that I'm still a virgin..otherwise, who knows how many diseases I would have, how much lower my self-esteem could get. Speaking of "the lord"...I was in such high spirits that I was considering returning to my faith, begging on my knees for absolution from my many sins.
I hate this roller coaster of emotion. Yesterday I was David; today I fell like Goliath. I don't want to feel invincible; I don't need to be perfect -- I want to walk down the street thinking about my plans for the next day, instead of obsessing over what people may be thinking; I want to eat a bowl of ice cream without a second though, instead of devouring the whole damn thing and exercising like a fiend. I hate my mind and my thoughts more than I hate my body.
Yesterday I was with my sister. Her guy friend joined us later on. He's about 6 years older than me. I have no interest in him -- I actually sometimes find him disgusting because he so freely expresses his need for sex and makes the girls seem like nameless, faceless objects. But I needed him: I wanted to be that nameless, faceless object. I wished he could, just for a night, be interested in me. I wanted to get drunk and jump him...to put it bluntly. It was probably the fact that my sister was with us that I did none of that, but I want to think it was because these filthy imaginations are just that for me -- imaginations -- and I won't act on them. My year of university and my share of nameless, faceless guys has taught me otherwise. I need to be needed. I need to be the centre of attention. That's why the boy who I never gave my heart to shattered it: he replaced me and, even though there have been other guys, I have not replaced him. He was the one who came back to me time after time, fight after fight. I like to be in denial, but I won't act dumb now: he used me, and I let him. I encouraged him to treat me horribly, so long as he treated me like something, anything at all. He wasn't the right person for me, but he was there to touch, to feel, to fight with, to hit, to obsess over. Now I won't have him. Now, I can only watch the messages on his wall from her. And if all of that wasn't a big enough confession: I am a horrible person. I hope I see him when I go back to university. I hope he's not in love with her, or he's willing to cheat on her. I can't even believe these thoughts have occurred to me. I remember hooking up with a guy, only to find out later that he had a girlfriend: I felt horrible, terrible, disgusted with myself: I didn't want to be that girl. I didn't want to hurt someone else, even if I had no idea. But in the current situation, I feel like I own him. I don't know why, and I know it's so wrong. But, no matter how many times I tell myself that I NEED TO STOP, the feeling remains. For the sake of my sanity and this girl, I hope I never see this guy again. I hope he doesn't wish me a happy birthday so I can hate him for forgetting, so I can fuel that hatred towards not wanting him physically when I go back to university.
This morning I went to sleep after 8am. If you had been with me for that painful hour as I tried to fall asleep, you would think I was a drug addict. My hands are shaking; my breath's getting shorter and shorter; my vision: doubling, tripling; my voice needs to be heard, to scream out, but that look of utter terror is frozen on my features; my legs are numb, stick straight, tingling. I'm convinced someone is taking pity on me, taking me off this earth. I'm afraid because it's taking so long. But I'm not resisting because I can finally be GONE. Wake up at 1:30pm -- phone call from my mother. "I'm having a bad day mom." I can feel the hatred pouring out of me, but I don't know why exactly. It's not June anymore. I can't fool myself: 2 days until my birthday. My 19th birthday, and I am still alive -- time's up. My greatest birthday wish is to gone without consequence, for my family to live on as if nothing happened, as if I had never been. Being alive means not knowing what will come next. I don't know how I outlived my own predictions...February came, and my family's voice over the phone stopped me. April passed and I couldn't do it because I wasn't all alone at university anymore -- I had dropped out and was back home. Now the third date rolls around, and I can't understand why I'll be alive at 19. I don't want to live until 19. I didn't plan as far as this. I'm panicking and being reckless and hating myself.
I need help with my borderline disorder. But I can't let go of this "perceived control." I like to think that at least I'm not using meds to keep order. Too bad that there is no fucking order. I need help thinking, breathing without hyperventilating, showering every day (yes, I can be at that level of disgusting...but who needs to shower when they spend all day in their fucking bed?)
I really am pathetic. If I'm not binging on food, I'm being a slut (or at least thinking of it), or drinking like a fiend. Thank the lord almighty that I'm still a virgin..otherwise, who knows how many diseases I would have, how much lower my self-esteem could get. Speaking of "the lord"...I was in such high spirits that I was considering returning to my faith, begging on my knees for absolution from my many sins.
I hate this roller coaster of emotion. Yesterday I was David; today I fell like Goliath. I don't want to feel invincible; I don't need to be perfect -- I want to walk down the street thinking about my plans for the next day, instead of obsessing over what people may be thinking; I want to eat a bowl of ice cream without a second though, instead of devouring the whole damn thing and exercising like a fiend. I hate my mind and my thoughts more than I hate my body.
Yesterday I was with my sister. Her guy friend joined us later on. He's about 6 years older than me. I have no interest in him -- I actually sometimes find him disgusting because he so freely expresses his need for sex and makes the girls seem like nameless, faceless objects. But I needed him: I wanted to be that nameless, faceless object. I wished he could, just for a night, be interested in me. I wanted to get drunk and jump him...to put it bluntly. It was probably the fact that my sister was with us that I did none of that, but I want to think it was because these filthy imaginations are just that for me -- imaginations -- and I won't act on them. My year of university and my share of nameless, faceless guys has taught me otherwise. I need to be needed. I need to be the centre of attention. That's why the boy who I never gave my heart to shattered it: he replaced me and, even though there have been other guys, I have not replaced him. He was the one who came back to me time after time, fight after fight. I like to be in denial, but I won't act dumb now: he used me, and I let him. I encouraged him to treat me horribly, so long as he treated me like something, anything at all. He wasn't the right person for me, but he was there to touch, to feel, to fight with, to hit, to obsess over. Now I won't have him. Now, I can only watch the messages on his wall from her. And if all of that wasn't a big enough confession: I am a horrible person. I hope I see him when I go back to university. I hope he's not in love with her, or he's willing to cheat on her. I can't even believe these thoughts have occurred to me. I remember hooking up with a guy, only to find out later that he had a girlfriend: I felt horrible, terrible, disgusted with myself: I didn't want to be that girl. I didn't want to hurt someone else, even if I had no idea. But in the current situation, I feel like I own him. I don't know why, and I know it's so wrong. But, no matter how many times I tell myself that I NEED TO STOP, the feeling remains. For the sake of my sanity and this girl, I hope I never see this guy again. I hope he doesn't wish me a happy birthday so I can hate him for forgetting, so I can fuel that hatred towards not wanting him physically when I go back to university.
This morning I went to sleep after 8am. If you had been with me for that painful hour as I tried to fall asleep, you would think I was a drug addict. My hands are shaking; my breath's getting shorter and shorter; my vision: doubling, tripling; my voice needs to be heard, to scream out, but that look of utter terror is frozen on my features; my legs are numb, stick straight, tingling. I'm convinced someone is taking pity on me, taking me off this earth. I'm afraid because it's taking so long. But I'm not resisting because I can finally be GONE. Wake up at 1:30pm -- phone call from my mother. "I'm having a bad day mom." I can feel the hatred pouring out of me, but I don't know why exactly. It's not June anymore. I can't fool myself: 2 days until my birthday. My 19th birthday, and I am still alive -- time's up. My greatest birthday wish is to gone without consequence, for my family to live on as if nothing happened, as if I had never been. Being alive means not knowing what will come next. I don't know how I outlived my own predictions...February came, and my family's voice over the phone stopped me. April passed and I couldn't do it because I wasn't all alone at university anymore -- I had dropped out and was back home. Now the third date rolls around, and I can't understand why I'll be alive at 19. I don't want to live until 19. I didn't plan as far as this. I'm panicking and being reckless and hating myself.
24 July 2011
Falling
I can't get him out of my head,
(Now he's with a girl who's 4 years younger than him - disgusting,)
and he keeps coming back into my life,
(and I wish I still had what she has - pathetic,)
and I never stop him.
(even though I don't want him anymore - could I be wrong?)
I wish I could still be special in his eyes. I wish I didn't hate him.
Stay tuned for the lowdown -- the goings-on of my life in one blogpost -- on Monday.
(Now he's with a girl who's 4 years younger than him - disgusting,)
and he keeps coming back into my life,
(and I wish I still had what she has - pathetic,)
and I never stop him.
(even though I don't want him anymore - could I be wrong?)
I wish I could still be special in his eyes. I wish I didn't hate him.
Stay tuned for the lowdown -- the goings-on of my life in one blogpost -- on Monday.
23 July 2011
Hello
Depression makes each day feel like a lonesome eternity. Yet, I can't understand how a whole year has gone by so quickly. I can't understand how the only things I encountered were failures and bad habits and lost friendships.
I strive to make my life empty, but it backfires each time. When I make my stomach empty, I look suspicious to my family. When I make my mind empty, I lose the ability to concentrate. When I make my room empty, I become materialistic and buy things I don't need. When I make my heart empty...well, that has yet to happen.
I want to fight this; I need a sharp mind to make the decisions, fend off the temptations, get out of this hole.
I turn to this blog because, as my BPD grows, so does my hatred of anything as real as time spent with other people. Instead, I burden the people I know won't ever leave, no matter how difficult I am, how many times I storm off, how loudly I yell: family. But sometimes I need to vent elsewhere.
My birthday week is looming, and with it comes the 14 DAY CHALLENGE -- details on Monday.
I strive to make my life empty, but it backfires each time. When I make my stomach empty, I look suspicious to my family. When I make my mind empty, I lose the ability to concentrate. When I make my room empty, I become materialistic and buy things I don't need. When I make my heart empty...well, that has yet to happen.
I want to fight this; I need a sharp mind to make the decisions, fend off the temptations, get out of this hole.
I turn to this blog because, as my BPD grows, so does my hatred of anything as real as time spent with other people. Instead, I burden the people I know won't ever leave, no matter how difficult I am, how many times I storm off, how loudly I yell: family. But sometimes I need to vent elsewhere.
My birthday week is looming, and with it comes the 14 DAY CHALLENGE -- details on Monday.
24 May 2011
Excerpts
I won't say much because I'd be a hypocrite in asking you to read the words of a fat, unmotivated slob. But here are some words that aren't mine that I hope will transform your thoughts into actions and fill your minds with images of success and dedication (and reassure you that you're not alone).
Keep accomplishing your goals, ladies.
I have to eat, I can't live by the word of God alone, no matter what scripture says; I need bread too. Damn the human stomach, this fat betrayer of my ideals.
-Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister by Gregory Maguire
(a rather dull and badly-written book overall, in my opinion, but it does have many memorable quotes)
I was aware of the life-or-death ramifications of self-starvation. But my alter ego of sorts was equally convinced that losing more was a matter of life and death.
-Get Me Out of Here: My Recovery from Borderline Personality Disorder by Rachel Reiland
(have not read the whole book yet...)
The moment you feel like giving up, remember why you held on for so long.
The darkest night is often the bridge to the brightest tomorrow.
-Jonathan Lockwood Huie
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
-Albert Einstein
It is only through labour and painful effort, by grim energy and resolute courage, that we move on to better things.
-Theodore Roosevelt
You have power over your mind -- not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.
-Marcus Aurelius
Achievement seems to be connected with action. Successful men and women keep moving. They make mistakes, but they don't quit.
- Conrad Hilton
Whatever you want in life, you must give up something to get it. The greater the value, the greater the sacrifice required of you. There's a price to pay if you want to make things better, and a price you'll pay for just leaving things as they are. Nothing worthwhile comes easily to anyone. Work, continuous work and hard work, is the only way to accomplish results that last.
I’m quite harmless now you see. To you. And now nobody can hurt me on the inside. I have this trick—anything you can do to me, I do to myself already. And I hit harder than you ever could.
–Second Star to the Right by Deborah Hautzig
(I'm sure most of you have seen this some place or another)
Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'
-Mary Anne Radmacher
Keep accomplishing your goals, ladies.
17 May 2011
Blame
No, this is not a pro-ana blog. Glamorizing the damn sickness is the last thing I wish to do. If you think I sit at my computer as my leg twitches uncomfortably, wondering how many things I’ll regret at the end of the day, how many devilish calories will make it into my mouth, with the sole purpose of infecting other people with the depression I feel each day, you are so grossly misinformed. If you think the reason for my ranting is to spread misery and hopelessness and despair to unsuspecting teens, you need to switch gears and find some compassion for a desperate girl attempting to soothe her pains by expressing her thoughts, the thoughts she keeps in all day. If a 15 year-old, impressionable teen is having troubles fitting in, feeling pressured to lose that extra 10 pounds, I am sorry that she stumbles upon this as she tries to seek solace. Because I am one girl, it is simpler to blame me than Valentino, for sending skeletons down their runways, or US magazine, for printing those “inspiring” weight-loss exposés. And even the “good guys,” who are preaching about the dangers of anorexia, bulimia, dieting in general, are only bringing attention to the debilitating sickness: those lectures come with a guarantee that the first thing a girl sees in the morning is her fat ass and the last thing she contemplates at night is her caloric intake. If your daughters, sons, students, neighbours are idealizing my mental illness, I will not feel guilty, won’t let you run me out of town, pitchforks raised. This blog is my release, the voice I search for at the dinner table when the glares stab me with the force of a hundred arrows as I push the second half of my meal away from reach. These are the broken, morose, sometimes witty, words of a girl trying to cope.
I can only love myself when I’m starving.
9 May 2011
Dedication
Do you know what gets me through my depression? The intolerable sleep patterns, the constant need to fill a void, the incessant wall-staring -- it's all mended when I browse through the grocery aisles, killing the impulse beast, when I stick to my meal plan, satisfying my fickle appetite, when I walk 15 km a day, even when my feet and back cry out in pain.
Dedication dulls the agony of depression. When the emptiness screams out for the satisfaction of those carbs, the sugars, that fast food, I starve the hell out of it before it causes a binge. What good will I be fueled by monosodium glutamate, benzoate preservatives, high fructose corn syrup? I won't -- clearly. I'll be a fat load of shit, creating a hole so deep in my couch that I'll require a crane to lift my ass up.
Knowing that I can do ONE thing RIGHT: that keeps me going.
Here's to staying committed so we don't end up with our hand permanently stuck running between the chip bowl and our face.
Dedication dulls the agony of depression. When the emptiness screams out for the satisfaction of those carbs, the sugars, that fast food, I starve the hell out of it before it causes a binge. What good will I be fueled by monosodium glutamate, benzoate preservatives, high fructose corn syrup? I won't -- clearly. I'll be a fat load of shit, creating a hole so deep in my couch that I'll require a crane to lift my ass up.
Here's to staying committed so we don't end up with our hand permanently stuck running between the chip bowl and our face.
3 May 2011
Preface
If you were to look at me for longer than the millisecond allotted to each face as it passes by, you would be inclined to form an opinion, wonder, maybe, why I’m here at this particular time, admire my sweater, perhaps. If you were to sit directly across from me and not be buried in work, your eyes would drift to my chubby cheeks, my legs crossed comfortably, back slouched, face peering into the screen, and assume I’m a university student working on an assignment, catching up on late work, possibly. If you were to delve deeper, you’d make some assumptions about my responsibilities, relationships or sleeping patterns (and, because of the black and purple rings surrounding my eyes, conclude I did not get any rest last night); nothing out of the ordinary would strike you about my appearance or the habits you’ve observed. If you were to notice me, the words fuck up would not stumble into your mind, for it’s far from conspicuous or obvious. And, just as surely, you wouldn’t take my approachability and easy going attitude as signs of failure. But, say you happened to recognize me from the philosophy class we have together twice a week at 8:30, and it had just ended, and you were walking to your next class -- you would know I had opted to spend my morning on my laptop instead. Say you were more attentive than that; say you saw my fingers straying from the keys, my eyes breaking contact with the screen, my head swiveling about: you could conclude that my energy was consumed by attempts to feign a persona. Now pretend you know me better than I know myself; pulling up my boots because they’ve slouched down becomes a sign of anxiousness and that it’s a nervous fidget is undoubtedly clear; the customary flinch followed by the sound of my knuckles cracking is absent and has instead matured into a serene demonstration of discomfort. You wouldn’t know anything about me because, after all, the secrets most valuable are the secrets best kept.
Part of the beauty of my failure is the way I can shape and mold my actions without consequence: the hole has been dug and, as soon as the edge becomes a source of intrigue, the free-fall is inevitable and entirely unstoppable. That edge forces you to crave, feel, live, be. Containing the fundamental elements for a junkie, it is the perfect release: intoxicating, stimulating, compelling, liberating. The first step is effortless and completely casual. The moments following immediately after are the ones you’ll search for endlessly, be devoted to unequivocally, yearn for unconditionally. Your last minutes of hesitation will come in the form of doubt, of branches catching hair, of branches winding around your shoelaces and grappling with your arms. The doubt will surround you with self-hate and self-pity and self-mourning and, worst of all, indecision. But the euphoria of the free-fall will have you absorbed so thoroughly that all else will be insignificant and senseless: uncertainty fails to reach those enthralled in destruction.
ps. I'm moving on Saturday -- wish me luck :).
ps. I'm moving on Saturday -- wish me luck :).
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