EssenceOfControl's Xanga

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 15:31:39 GMT

There's something I don't understand about people who comment on pro-ana blogs when they aren't pro-ana. One, how do you come across them without intentionally doing so? Two, why don't you ever have your own xanga so that people can respond to you? And three, why the hell do you never comment on the right date? Seriously, I have had so many people come in, and leave a nasty comment on a post that's over a year old. And they never have a xanga of their own. So what are they doing on xanga looking at pro-ana blogs if they have such an issue with them? Can so many different people really be that inattentive that they don't even notice the date of an entry? Or do they post that shit on year old entries on purpose so they can feel like they're doing something to change us, without having to fear the possibility that we might ACTUALLY read the comment, and reply.

And my biggest question: why the hell can't people just mind their own business? You can get into a whole argument when I say that we aren't hurting anyone but ourselves, but the fact of the matter still remains: We aren't hurting anyone but ourselves! If someone is on here reading this stuff, they're here of their own free will, and no effort of ours brought them here. And if they're here intentionally... then chances are we don't have to do anything to make them sick. They already are, and you just don't know it yet. I was sick long before I ever stepped foot into the dark and twisted world of pro-ana, and I can tell you honestly that even if I had never come here, I would still be just as sick.

Another thing I always find amusing. People saying that the models you see in magazines are all fake, and that no one is really that thin, and that we're setting false ideals in trying to attain something like that... reality check. Some of those models really are that thin. Case in point, America's Next Top Model. Watch one episode, and I guarantee you will see at least five different girls, unedited, who are perfect examples of rail thin models. Not every image you see in magazines is edited. The forces behind those magazines claim they are so they can continue using size zero models without having to take responsibility for the rise in eating disorders. They say "It's fake," we're supposed to say, "Oh okay, I guess I'll eat then." But it doesn't work like that. Even when the models aren't edited, they're still underweight. There was a story on yahoo news recently about the model for Ralph Lauren being fired because she was too fat, and Ralph Lauren continued to use a grossly edited image of her for their ads. The model was 120 pounds at 5'10". That's still considerably underweight.

Even looking at unedited images of her, you're still bombarded with the ideal that being under a healthy weight is beautiful. And even when we claim it's not, in our heart of hearts, we don't believe the words coming out of our mouths, and we still want to be that thin and beautiful. Because whether or not it's right or wrong doesn't matter. What matters is what we feel, and when an entire nation claims that that is beautiful... it's hard not to feel ugly and fat unless you're starving to achieve that ideal. Logically, our survival instincts should tell us that what we see is ugly, and that it's wrong because in the grand scheme of things, thinner = weaker, and in nature weakness equals death. But logic has nothing to do with it. We have long since killed our baser instincts, having grown into a world where instinct is rarely used except on the rarest of occasions.

And so, against nature, we starve, and against logic, we feel strong doing so. There can be no reason amidst madness, and to all those who wish to bring it here, I tell you... you are wasting your time. No one can help us but us, and your feeble logic and reason cannot change that. Nothing can change that. Period. I really wish that people could understand that, but it seems that wishing so is just as fruitless as their efforts to somehow magically change our entire lives with a simple "omg wtf eat something!" And I know that some people truly do mean well when they say those things, but to be perfectly honest... I have always found such ridiculous comments to be incredibly disrespectful. The way they put it makes it all sound so simple, and it truly takes away from the reality of just how difficult it can be. But I know that in some ways, it's really not their fault. They don't realize the reality of our worlds. And that just leaves me wondering... how can a nation so full of something so real and so serious be so incredibly ignorant? The amount of prejudice and hatred there is towards people with eating disorders sickens me. It's just like the ignorance and prejudice people have towards people with AIDS.

Honestly, and it may sound horrible to say, but I think I would donate money towards getting rid of Ignorance long before I would donate towards getting rid of AIDS or Eating Disorders. Ignorance is easy to cure. AIDS and EDs are not. If we lived in a world without ignorance, we would be that much closer to being able to conquer all the other illnesses out there. Imagine, if all those people who don't have a clue about these things suddenly understood it, how much they would contribute towards something positive that would actually help rather than wasting their time on ignorant comments and just outright cruelty towards those afflicted with what they don't understand. Imagine the wars that could be prevented, and the lives that could be saved. Ignorance doesn't just effect people who are sick, it effects every one in every way. Ignorance makes racists, sexists, and every other kind of prejudice there is in the world today. I guarantee if we got rid of ignorance all together, we'd get rid of 90% or more of all the prejudice in the world.

*sigh* But yeah... I sound like John Lennon. I am, surely, a dreamer. Ironic how John Lennon has so much in common with Buddha, and he's called a dreamer while Buddha is called Awake. Yeah, if I'm starting to make connections like that, it means I'm tired. So! Off to bed with me.

Life in the Shiny Box

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 14:40:30 GMT

How odd is it that I would find solace in one of the places I loathed to the core of my being only 7 years ago? I'm talking about online gaming. World of Warcraft, to be exact. It wasn't out seven years ago, but it's infamous predecessor, Everquest, was. I hated that game, and all others like it with a passion bordering on insanity. Everytime I met someone who played it, I wanted to stab them in the face or burn off their hair or something that would make them associate that game with pain. Just like I did. My parents disappeared into the gaming world when I was twelve. Ten years they've been playing it. And to this day I still feel waves of bitterness and juvenile fits of jealousy when I have to compete with the game to get their attention for something.

But here I am, playing one of those very games I swore never to touch (unless it was to destroy it). And it's oddly managed to give me a sense of accomplishment. I've been home for going on four months now, and I, as well as another 17% of the populace here in my town, still haven't been able to get a job. I feel like a bloody fucking failure. I've been bored out of my skull (literally), depressed beyond reason, and unable to find any real reason to grasp at my continued existance. But when I started playing WoW again on a 10 day free trial thing, I stopped feeling so damned depressed and hopeless, I haven't thought much about dying since, and I actually feel accomplished. Even if it is only because I managed to get past the hellish 45-50 levels on my Hunter in two days. I suppose it also helps that I started playing again just as my mom was getting her Warlock to level 45, and we've been hunting together every night thus far. I never thought I'd actually be pleased that her computer was fried, but alas, I am. Her video card copped out, and now she can't raid with her guild. Which means she can only group with me. Amazing how childishly selfish I still am.

*sigh* Anyway, I'm running on zero sleep, and the only reason I updated was to pass the time until my sisters bus came and went. Now it's gone, and I can go to the store. So I'm going to do just that, and then... I'm either going to sleep, or I'm going to play some more.

Acne throws me for a backslide, I won't go outside, makeup can't hide how I feel inside.

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 00:54:36 GMT

So I think today is probably the first day in over a year that I didn't look in the mirror, and want to stab myself in the face. I actually felt okay about my appearance today, even though the scale only reported a two pound weight loss since yesterday. I didn't want to shave my head because my hair was unruly, burn off my face because of acne, or cut off various globs of fat to fit into my jeans. My hair cooperated, my skin is clear, and my pants are loose. I do so love days where you can actually see the product of your work. My hair has been fried for ages now, and it's been horribly uneven, and splotchy blonde. Now it's a perfect cut wedge, a dark shade of mahogany, and it's healthy and not even a little frizzy. It took three boxes of color, and two shades of hideous puke green to get it from blonde to brunette, but hey... it was worth it. It might not be the shade I wanted, but it's growing on me.

So today has been considerably better than yesterday. Yesterday, I couldn't think straight because I was so depressed, and angry at my whole situation. Every bone in my body ached, and I couldn't sleep for shit. Yeah... I hope I have more days like this. I honestly don't know how the hell I managed to survive here before. Definitely not fun...

Anyway, I'm kinda distracted, so... thinspo.

Music

It's not like they meant to hurt me
Watchin TV, checkin Britney, televised, my guys
Checkin out her thighs and I roll my eyes and sigh
It's not like I even need to be competing with unreality TV, fantasy
Not for a smart girl like me
Some days it's hard to be a one girl revolution

Sometimes I have good days and it's good to be me
Sometimes I get the best of insecurity
And it's quite alright to be the one and only
But today I feel like the one and lonely

It's not that I don't know beauty is only skin deep
Just the skin I'm in, not the girl within
But one imperfection takes away my grin
Not that I think I'm ugly but
Acne throws me for a backslide
I won't go outside
Makeup can't hide how I feel inside
Some days it's hard to be a one girl revolution

Sometimes I have good days and it's good to be me
Sometimes I get the best of insecurity
And it's quite alright to be the one and only
But today I feel like the one and lonely

(Oh, the one and lonely)
We all have bad hair days
Those nothing good about me days
Just keep moving on cuz they'll be gone
And we'll still be here going on
We have our yesterdays
No lunch cuz the jeans don't fit days
Just keep moving on cuz they'll be gone
And we'll still be here going on

Sometimes I have bad days and it's hard to be me
Sometimes I get brought down by insecurity
And I have my days where I'm the one and lonely
But today I choose to be the one and only
Yea, I'm the one and only

Thinspo

My whole world is the pain inside me, the best I can do is just get through the day.

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 18:33:57 GMT

Another long time no post. *sigh* Fortunately, the lack of posting doesn't mean what it usually means. Usually, when I fail to post or lurk around on xanga, it means I'm binging or completely ignoring my weight all together. But not lately. I've been living on one meal a day for quite awhile now, and that meal never gets any bigger than one of those healthy tv dinners that I've become incredibly fond of. I loathe cooking in this nasty ass kitchen, and that usually means I don't eat, which eventually leads to a nasty binge of potato chips and other things that don't require cooking. But with the lovely invention of Lean Cuisine, Healthy Choice, and SmartOnes I can eat a pre-measured low-cal, low-fat meal, and not have to spend more than a minute in the kitchen to procure it. Oh how I adore thee, my microwave and corporate America food boxy maker people.

And I've become unusually abhorrent towards soda. Which has a few lovely side-effects. One being a further loss of weight, another being that I can actually survive on the $200 I get every month for foodstamps without having to eat my parents' food. However, it does have the bad side effect of having to find something else to drink. I've found that nothing really sounds good to me. If it weren't for my body feeling like it's being pulled apart from dehydration, I probably wouldn't bother to drink anything. As it is, I'm living off of those 68 cent bottles of Sam's choice flavored water, and only one or two of those a day. So overall, I'm living off of about $4 or $5 a day for food and drink. It would be even less than that if the little freezer dinners were still 50 cents or a dollar a piece, but they jacked the price to $2 or $3. And made the portion smaller, of course. Which would piss me off it weren't for the fact that smaller portions means a smaller waist, and less money means less resources to buy extras...

Anyway, I'd love to say that life is going splendidly right now. Of course, I'd be lying... as it is, my mom has a gall stone, and will be having surgery in a week or two, my dad won't be getting his settlement for god knows how long because he, too, needs surgery, and on top of that, the government that is supposed to be there to help people in just such a situation has decided to not only deny my mom her disability despite arthritis, heart problems, and kidneys that are threatening to fail again, they've also turned around and decided to cut off the $600ish that WAS keeping us afloat. That on top of my dad not being able to clock in as many hours of work study means that we are going to be several hundred dollars short JUST on rent next month. And the last shot of hope that we had to save us... a temporary work force agency that is NOT taking anymore applications due to the rising number of unemployed individuals turning to them for survival. I just fucking love Longview! *disdainful sarcasm*

So really, aside from the weightloss (which really isn't all that significant, considering how disgustingly fat I still am), life is shit. I am constantly filled with this sense of dreadful longing to just fucking off myself, and get it over with. I cannot see anything ahead of me. Every time I try to see what I saw 6 months ago, all I see is more struggling. I want to go to school, but at the same time I want to crawl in bed, and just sleep for ages because I'm worried that if I start school, my dad will get his settlement, and we'll move, and I'll have to start all over again somewhere else. And I just don't think I have the energy to do it. Fuck, I hardly have the energy to wrap my mind around the concept of even going to school much less having to actually do it, and to possibly have to start over again once I've done it... it wouldn't be such an issue if it weren't for the fact that the degree I want isn't universal. What may qualify me here won't necessarily mean shit somewhere else. Especially since the program I want isn't even a defined course at the college. It's a build your own program for Veterinary Technicians, and they don't actually give you any hands on training at the school. They just do basic science, math, and shit like that, and then you interview a bunch of Vets to get a feel for the work you'd do if you're lucky enough to find a fucking clinic that's actually hiring in this God forsaken town. And I can hardly get a job in another town! I don't have a fucking car or the money to get one.

Fuck, I don't even have the money to buy decent clothes for an interview. I don't have any sneakers anymore either. Talia lost the only pair I had, so I'm stuck wearing fucking flip flops in 30 degree weather in fucking rainy Washington, and the only clothes I have are too fucking small because I gained 70 fucking pounds after throwing away all the clothes that didn't fit JUST right when I was 160. So even if I was lucky enough to get a job, I wouldn't have any clothes or shoes to wear to the fucking job. And, like an idiot, I left all of my coats in Kansas thinking that I'd have a job before it started getting cold so I could send for them. So I'm clotheless, shoeless, coatless, and fucking FAT. And the Salvation Army won't help me. Why? Because I'm single and childless and able-bodied. And even if I weren't, the only clothes they ever get are for fucking toddlers and infants. They don't even have clothes for regular kids let alone washed up fat fucking adults.

So yeah, I'm desperate, basically. I plan on giving blood here soon to earn some money, and I even looked into donating eggs. But I don't qualify. Why? For several reasons actually. My family has a history of cancer, mental illness, and a load of other health problems. Not to mention I myself suffer from depression, an eating disorder, suicidal ideation, and other not so pleasant problems. But even if all that weren't an issue, I still wouldn't be able to. Why? Because at my height, I cannot be any bigger than 154 pounds. So even at my lowest weight, I was still too fucking fat to be good enough to help someone bring another pestulant fucking child into this world. How lovely.

Yeah... needless to say, I'm pretty fucking stressed out. And I think the stress is why my period didn't come last month. Or rather it did, but I spotted so lightly that I didn't even have to use a pad or a tampon. I did, of course, but there was nothing on it. I spotted, used a tampon, and nothing happened after that. I spent the whole month paranoid that it was going to start at any minute because I hadn't bled yet, but nothing happened. And then, just as I let my guard down, it was time for it to start this month, and naturally, it caught me by surprise. And even now, it's so fucking light I almost don't need any protection against it. And it fucking hurts. Usually the cramps go away in the first couple days, but I'm on day four now, and I actually had to take a fucking vicodin to be able to move. I'd say it was from taking birth control while I was in Kansas, but I only took it for a month, and my period was normal the first month I was back here, right after I got off of it. I'd like to go get it checked out, but alas, I'm too fucking poor to do that, too. The "free" clinic here isn't actually free. They charge $40 to be seen. And if I had $40, I sure as fuck wouldn't spend it on that. I'd buy some fucking shoes. *sigh*

You wanna know something really fucking horrible? I have gotten to a point where I have seriously considered going out, and getting knocked up so I can be put on welfare just so I can survive. And it fucking sickens me because I know that there are people who do that all the time. They've sunken so fucking low from not being able to find work, and from not recieving any fucking help to meet their most basic of fucking needs, that they have gone out, and brought another fucking human being into this world to suffer beside them just so they could survive. The fact that a person would have to do that to get assistance in their time of need is just fucking sick. You cannot get medical or cash assistance of any kind from the government unless you are pregnant, have a child, or are already so sick that you're going to fucking die if you don't get help. I almost want to tell them that, yes, I am so sick that I'm going to die if I don't get help. I'm so sick of not being able to see a doctor when I need to, so sick of not being able to buy clothes or shoes or coats when I need them, that I am seriously going to fucking KILL myself if I don't get some fucking help! That's what I would like to tell them.

And I'd really like to be able to pay back the people who actually have helped me. Doug paid for my GED while I was in Kansas. He paid for TJ and I's marriage. He bought us food and all kinds of other shit that I can't even add up. He paid for my bus ticket to get back here... and then there's Carole. Before I even left, she lent my parents 205 fucking dollars so they could pay rent. She told me not to worry about it when I told her she'd be paid back when they got their taxes. And I swore that, no, I would not not worry about it, and that she WOULD be paid back. And then I left, and what happened? My dad spent all $6000 fucking dollars of the tax return, plus the thousands more he got from school grants over the year. And Carole? She hasn't seen a fucking cent. I wanted to go see her when I got back, but then mom told me that she hadn't been repaid. I didn't even fucking know that until I got back. So I've been avoiding her. And then I ran into her at Wal-Mart the other day, and I was so fucking humiliated. I hadn't even told her I was back yet because I didn't want to even speak to her until I could pay her back... seriously, I don't even know why I continue to bother with living. No, with surviving. Living would imply that my existence was somehow justified and fulfilling. It's not either. I just consume, and contribute nothing. I'm like a fucking parasite. Their is not justification for my existence when my existence does nothing but destroy everything around me. I should be dead.

Yeah... *sigh* I'm very tired. I think I'm just gonna post some thinspo and go lay down. It's mostly icons, but whatever.

Music

The lights go out all around me
One last candle to keep out the night
And then the darkness surrounds me
I know i'm alive but i feel like i've died
And all that's left is to accept that it's over
My dreams ran like sand through the fists that i made
I try to keep warm but i just grow colder
I feel like i'm slipping away

After all this has passed, i still will remain
After i've cried my last, there'll be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today,
Someday i'll hope again
And there'll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

My whole world is the pain inside me
The best i can do is just get through the day
When life before is only a memory
I'll wonder why God lets me walk through this place
And though i can't understand why this happened
I know that i will when i look back someday
And see how you've brought beauty from ashes
And made me as gold purified through these flames

After all this has passed, i still will remain
After i've cried my last, there'll be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today,
Someday i'll hope again
And there'll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

Here i am, at the end of me
Tryin to hold to what i can't see
I forgot how to hope
This night's been so long
I cling to Your promise
There will be a dawn

After all this has passed, i still will remain
After i've cried my last, there'll be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today,
Someday i'll hope again
And there'll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

Thinspo

98-99

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Sat, 19 Sep 2009 02:03:00 GMT

     So I'm sick. Some kind of horrendous cold. I think it's starting to go away, but I can't taste anything, and my throat is raw/numb... so is my nose, actually. I'm still unemployed. Big surprise, huh? If I couldn't find a job the first time I was here, I don't know what made me think it'd be any different the second time around. I have, literally, applied at every single fast food place, restaurant, grocery store, and random place I could think of. I even put resumes and shit on Work Source, and still... I've got nothing. My two promising leads turned into flops. I can't wait to get out of here.

    It's strange. It doesn't feel like I ever left. Everything that happened in Kansas feels like a distant dream. Really, everything feels distant. Cooking dinner, driving to the store, taking a shower... it's like I'm witnessing myself doing these things through a dense fog. I went to the store a few days ago, and all I can remember of the trip was walking out the front door, and pulling back into the driveway when I got back. I looked over at the seat next to me to see the dinners I'd got myself for the rest of the month, and I had no idea where they came from. I couldn't remember buying them, couldn't remember going into the store, or even deciding what I was going to buy once I got there. There is nobody there. My head is empty. No Tom, no Luci, no anybody. It's just me, and I don't feel real at all. Every time this happens, I try to get a grasp on reality, but I can't. It seems like the harder I try to hold on, the more it slips through my fingers. Like grasping at sand... there is no holding onto it. It just slips away, and I'm left staring at my empty hands wondering what happened.

     I spend most of my time laying in bed, thinking about dying. Wondering what it would feel like, what would happen once I was dead, if I'd go to hell, or just float around in limbo because I didn't do what I was supposed to while alive, or if I'd just rot in the ground. Then I wondered what would happen to those I left behind. I imagined my mom calling TJ to tell her I'd died, that I'd killed myself, and that nobody expected it because I seemed okay. I wondered what people would do... would my mom lose it, and sink into the depression that used to be such a big issue with her? Or would she be okay after awhile? Would my death really make that big of an impact on the world? I mean, yeah, people might mourn my death, but what happens after that? What absence would be left by me? Would it be any different, really, than the absence I leave when I'm not around? I don't really contribute anything to the world. I just sort of float around inside of it, wondering what the hell I'm supposed to be doing. Every now and then I brush up against someone, and yeah, that leaves a ripple on the surface of their world, but eventually it fades away, doesn't it? Eventually I'm just a memory, someone who came along, and left behind traces of herself. I think the only difference would be that people would be more aware of how I'd touched their lives, but really, nothing else would change. I'm not around when I'm alive, so why would it be any different if I were dead? I'm just a ghost, drifting in and out of the world, waiting for something to move me in a way that brings me back to life.

     I seem to be bleeding today. These are things that have festered inside of my mind for years... but today, they seem to be flowing out into print like someone ripped open an artery in the heart of my soul. I have never been able to express these thoughts so clearly. It seems rather contradictory that such clarity could come in such a state of confusion. But there it is, right in front of me. And I still don't know what to do. I feel so lost right now, and I can't seem to pull myself together. I'm not even sure I want to be pulled together... the world is disappearing, and I'm going with it.

     *sigh* Anyway... I wrote a poem. That's really the only reason I wrote. I wanted to post the poem. Usually it takes me hours to write even a small poem, and then I hate it. But this one is pretty long... and it took me less than 3 minutes to write the whole thing. Like I said, it's like I'm bleeding, and this is what came pouring out. And for the first time since I started writing, I actually like what I see. **EDIT** And I just wrote another one. **EDIT AGAIN** Yeah, so... I wrote a third one...

A Mind So Dark

To be still in time as time moves through you,
all around you, filling up the emptiness,
and washing away the sorrow of broken promises,
dreams you never had, wishes you never made,
all falling away now as darkness unfurls before you.

Where have you gone?
So far away, and yet so close,
I can see your eyes moving now,
but they do not make a sound.
So deep in thought,
and yet those thoughts come no nearer
than the shores upon which you walk
before being swept away again
in the tides of longing and despair.

I've lost you now,
you've gone away to places far from here.
But still here you sit, quiet and still,
reaching out for things you'll never touch,
never hope to grasp in those ethereal hands.

Come back to me, I beg.
The world is here before you,
if only you could see,
everything you could ever want is here,
floating before your hollow eyes,
just waiting for you to reach out.
Reach out and take hold.

Let go of those fragile lies.
They will take you no where,
though it may seem they do,
you will never leave where you are,
though your mind may drift away,
it betrays you and leaves you here,
a hollow vessel to waste away...

Death has come so early,
though you are still breathing,
I watch as He carries you away,
off to those worlds in which you dream,
away from here, away from me.
Life has gone and passed you by,
and all that's left of you is me,
barely holding on and sinking,
falling away into the darkness of the mind.

Shadow of Herself

She is a ghost,
drifting in and out of reality,
lost on her way to something more,
not really knowing what more is,
or if it even exists.

She floats between living and existing,
brushing against those she meets,
leaving only traces of herself,
ripples on the surfaces of worlds unknown to her,
but real to those within them.

She does not know of her own importance,
if she has any to anyone anywhere,
or even if she holds any over herself.
All she knows is the emptiness,
the persistent lack of inspiration,
of motivation, of realization...

She doesn't know who she is,
or even who she ought to be,
or who she once was.
All she knows is what she feels,
and what she feels is lost.
Lost in the absence of self,
the absence of passion, of life...

She wants to feel that fire,
that burning desire,
that passion that fuels the soul,
pushes it to reach out for something,
anything that isn't nothing.

But she's tired,
too tired to even try,
she knows what she knows,
and knowing does little to ease her troubles,
when inspiration eludes her,
all she knows is how to disappear.

Story of a Girl

So you emulate the songs that you hear on the radio,
don't know who you are so you reinvent yourself every time you turn around,
stars gleaming in your eyes, you know you what you want, but you're not quite sure how to get it,
so you sell your soul for a little something that imitates the happiness that you think you'd get,
way up there, among the satellites and rocket ships that'd take you to the moon, and back again.
Then you wonder why you've hit rock bottom,
and you ask yourself who that is lying beside you, in the bed that you made,
there's no escape from the things that make you crawl inside yourself,
and now you're trapped in a lie that you created to please everyone but you,
and somewhere along the way you lost yourself in all the false pretenses and tired cover ups,
you're not sure how, but you know you're out there somewhere just waiting to be found
by the man with the gentle hands, and the ring on his finger that he tries to hide,
and you realize you've been lied to, again, and you cry...
The stars suddenly seem so distant now as you walk, alone, up those steps,
into the blinding white halls, and the sterile stench that gets caught in your throat,
makes your stomach lurch, as you feel the cold vinyl beneath your legs,
sitting on the table, waiting for the doctor to deliver the verdict,
and tell you what you already know, that there's a life inside of you.
And you know your parents are gonna freak when they hear,
how you took the life of an unborn child who's soul will burn beside yours,
in the lake of fire that you wish you were in if only to banish the chill in your bones,
as you stand beneath the cold darkness of the night's sky,
staring up at the harsh glaring of stars that blinded you once before,
made you stumble and fall, but now you think you know that
dreams are for dreamers, and you have been awakened,
by the reality that the stars have always kept their own company,
and that they will lend you no comfort as you float on through the vast recesses of space.
So you turn your eyes back to the ground, and walk towards the door of the cheap motel room,
out in the middle of someplace next to nowhere, your backpack and your guitar your only companions as you forget about the you that you lost all those years ago,
and you sweep the pieces of the life you had before under the rug,
and work, instead, on discovering who you are now,
under the scars and the skin pulled taut over muscle and bone,
and as you dig deeper you realize that after everything you did to change who you were,
you really weren't so bad to begin with, and you think that maybe,
despite all of the pain and the memories of mistakes that you made,
you're gonna be okay...

Sacrifice is giving up something good for something Better.

Fri, 28 Aug 2009 06:15:17 GMT

      Well, so far this week, I've lost about 7 pounds. I haven't gone over 500 calories since Saturday. Today was the highest intake day so far, but that's because it was my sister's birthday, and I had a small slice of cake (170 calories). I've pretty much been living off of sugar free jello pudding, orange juice, and about a cup of soup a night. I've restricted myself to one jello cup a day, unlimited juice, maybe a thing of yogurt, and a bowl of soup or fruit/veggies for dinner. It's working well. I'm not insanely hungry during the day, except when people decide to cook something that smells good. (It's scary how often my family cooks pastries of some kind O_O). And the nightmares of binging in the middle of the night have returned. This, while disturbing, is a good thing in my book. It means I'm doing something right.

     Anyway, I got some Manic Panic today. Red Passion and Virgin Snow. The Virgin Snow is for me, so I can find work, and the Red Passion was for my sister. She turned ten today, and school is starting next week. I thought she'd like a nice bright streak of reddish-pink for her first day back. *grins* I'm totally jealous of her though. Her hair is insanely long, and absolutely gorgeous. When I bleached the strip, it was this pretty shade of honey gold. It looked awesome.

     But yeah. I'd write more but my hands are killing me. Gotta love the carpal tunnel syndrome. So I'm off. I may post thinspo tomorrow. Who knows.

There's always gonna be another mountain; I'm always gonna wanna make it move.

Wed, 19 Aug 2009 10:17:39 GMT

     Well. I think now is a good time to start a fast. I just got done watching Center Stage: Turn It Up, and wow. The main character has a body that I would, seriously, kill for. On top of that, I think it's finally struck me just how much weight I've gained this past year. I mean, I knew the number, but now it's really starting to hit me. None of my clothes fit. And all of the fat clothes that I did have in the past are gone. I threw them away after I could no longer wear them without having to safety pin them on. A really good idea at the time! But then, I didn't exactly plan on gaining all that weight plus more back. Now I'm so fucking fat that my bra barely even fits. Definitely not the greatest time of my life.

     On top of that, my mother is starting to poke fun at me. A harmless act that, if continued, is seriously going to cause some friction between us. Though she has gained quite a bit of weight, too... it's still not cool. I hooked her up on The Daily Plate a few minutes ago. Hopefully she takes advantage of it. She was keeping track of her intake on stick-it notes. I think TDP will be a little more helpful.

     I got my food stamp case set up yesterday. I'm getting $200 a month. I couldn't wait to get them. Then I went to the store to shop for food, and for the life of me, I couldn't think of a single thing that sounded appetizing. I tried thinking of foods that I could eat that were healthy, and then it was like... why buy any food at all? I did though. I got some of those little nectarine cups, a box of Special K crackers, and a couple cans of pineapple. Then I got a ton of drinks. Two gallons of orange juice, two cans of pineapple juice, and a bunch of sparkling water. Usually I get diet soda, but I am so fucking sick of diet soda. I decided to switch to juice. It seems like a bad switch, calorie wise, but trying to force myself to continue drinking diet soda just landed me in the box of regular soda that everyone else drinks. Which is definitely not acceptable. Besides, juice has vitamins and shit. Good stuff.

     Anyway. I went to LCC yesterday, and I got the information on school. Now I just need to finish applying, pull together the money to take the last COMPASS test (fucking assholes, I can't believe they charge for that), and then I'm good to go. I'm thinking of doing Veterinary Assistance. Though, to be honest, I really shouldn't be thinking about it at all. I should just jump in, and GO. If I keep thinking about it, I'm going to psyche myself out, and then be right back in square one. I do know one thing though. Whatever I do, I am definitely gonna try to take an extra class on the side. An exercise class or something. Take advantage of the government funding. *grins*

     And maybe I can get a work-study job, too. It would be really nice to be able to have some money on the side. I'm already getting fed up with the bullshit here. What am I talking about? I was fed up with it the first week I got back. Now I'm just stewing in it. And all those promising leads I had before? Bullshit. I followed up on all of them, and it was like... why the fuck did you even make me waste the gas? You could have just said fucking NO the first time I was here.

    Yeah. And all that anger and pent up fury that I had the last time I was here? It's starting to come back. And it's kind of scary. I haven't felt this way in ages, and it bothers me. I'll just be sitting there, everything all peachy keen, and the next minute I'm ripping someone's fucking head off for breathing too close to me. And I'll try to reel it back in, and make a save the minute the venom leaves my mouth... but it's kind of hard to make a save when you basically just told someone you'd really like to see them dead if only because it will give you a little more space to breathe.

     I especially hate when I try to cook myself something. As if it weren't bad enough having to go into a filthy kitchen where their are gnats and maggots hiding in various places, I also have to find and wash everything I might need to make whatever it is I'm making. And then, after I've done all that, the family flocks in like a herd of fucking cows... or better yet, a swarm of fucking flies. "Did you make that for everyone?" "Can I have some?" Um... NO?! I fucking washed the pans, bowls, stirring utensils, and silverware needed to fucking make it and eat it. You can go to hell, and make your fucking own. I don't give a flying fuck if I made more than enough to share.

     And that's another thing that bothers me. I honestly enjoy cooking. And not just for myself. I really like being able to make a nice meal for everyone to eat. But here...? I can't fucking stand it! And it has everything to do with how nasty a process it is to make it. Food isn't supposed to be associated with maggots and flies and rotting food and mold. But when I think about cooking here, that's EXACTLY what I think about. It's no wonder it was so fucking easy to starve myself here...

     I am honestly worried about my dad getting this settlement, and buying a house. I mean, I'm really excited about it, don't get me wrong! Just the idea of getting out of this shit hole, and into a place that hasn't yet been tainted by our lack of hygiene is surreal. But I worry. We've lived in nice places before. And we fucking DESTROYED them. I am seriously not convinced that this family can take care of a house well enough to own one. I mean, just picturing a beautiful kitchen with tile floors, granite counter tops, top of the line appliances, and real wood cabinets being buried under the kind of filth that's in our kitchen right now makes me cringe. Houses may not be sentient beings, but I would seriously mourn for any house that we move in to.

     I don't know. Maybe I should put more faith in my family. Maybe the pride of ownership will be enough to turn the tide. But I can't help but feeling that a new house's chance of turning the tide that is my family is about the same as a sand wall's chance of turning away a tsunami. Who knows though. Miracles can happen, right? *sigh*

     And that reminds me... we're more than likely going to be moving to Iowa. Which makes me wonder... what the hell am I doing planning to go to school for a year when we'll be moving before I've graduated? God damn. I wish things would hurry the fuck up, and get moving. I am so sick of sitting idle. I can't deal with the inactivity. Especially in this house. It's depressing.

     Yeah. Anyway. Onto thinspo and shit.

Fast Hours
(starting at 1am)
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Music

I can almost see it
That dream I am dreaming
But there's a voice inside my head saying
"You'll never reach it"

Every step I'm taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking

But I gotta keep trying
Gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down
But no, I'm not breaking

I may not know it
But these are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most, yeah
Just gotta keep going

And I, I got to be strong
Just keep pushing on

'Cause there's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb, yeah!

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Somebody's gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb, yeah!

Keep on moving, keep climbing
Keep the faith, baby
It's all about, it's all about the climb
Keep the faith, keep your faith, whoa

Thinspo

100-101

Friday, August 14, 2009

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 11:51:07 GMT

     Okay! So I haven't updated in awhile. Big surprise there, huh? Well, I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things, and start updating less sporadically, and more consistently. First big change... I'm back in Washington. Not really thrilled about that. My family is still just as disgusting and unhygienic as ever (demonstrated brilliantly by my sister's recent case of pin worms). I can't really say that it's a bad thing though. My dad is getting a huge settlement from a lawsuit (Stupid Bimbo in SUV + Cell Phone + Stop Light = Four Car Pile-Up). With that settlement he plans to buy a house in an area with a better economy. And he said he'd buy me a car, too. *evil grins*

     Big change number two... well, not really a BIG change (it is for me!). I've decided that I'm going to dread my hair. I've already started the two week preparatory step; my hair is tightly braided in about a hundred twisty little braids, and I've been washing it with plain soap to get rid of chemical residues and shit from my conditioner and other nifty little products that are good on normal hair and no-nos on dreads. The only thing I need now is a metal tooth comb, some dread wax, and to seriously suck up to someone who can help me dread it (i.e. my ex-stylist mother *whistles innocently*). Ah yes, and a whole shit load of spare time. As if I don't have enough...

     Yeah, I know what a lot of people are thinking. "Dreads? How the hell are you gonna get a job?" Well, that's the beauty of it. Washington is full of beatnik, Rastafarian, hippy-chicish whatever types of people. That, and I've decided to go to school... where my hair doesn't really matter. Kinda scary... I'm going to be going to school with my mother. *blinks* Good for her, though. I'm glad she's finally doing it. I just have to figure out what I'm going to school for. At least there are different options here. I was kind of sick of staring at the WATC list trying to find something that looked even the slightest bit like something I'd actually want to do with my life for any length of time.

     But anyway, yeah. I just got done watching Super Size Me for the first time. I've heard a lot of shit about that show, and I've gotta say... I'm siding with the guy who did the documentary. It's absolutely disgusting what this nation has come to, and I don't give a flying fuck what anyone has to say to defend the fast food industries. No amount of denial or pretty sugary candy coated excuses and blatant lies are going to change the fact that they fucking are, in part, responsible for the insane amount of obesity that has spread across this country like melty fucking mayonaise on their nasty ass Big Macs and Whoppers.

      Fast Food is Fucking EVIL. There is no two ways about it. It's too fast, too easy, and too fucking MUCH. Before fast food a person had to pay good money, hard earned money, so that they could go out to eat. And when they went out, they got decent meals without all the added shit that big money coorporations add to get you hooked. And most people didn't make a habit of going out to eat back then. Yeah, it was easier than cooking yourself, but it was far more costly than eating at home. And when you ate at home, you had to fucking WORK for that food. Burn some fucking calories before you got to stuff your face. Now we have TV dinners, and pre-made pastas, meatloafs, stews, roasts, asian, indian, mexican, whatever the hell you want, you can find it in the freezer section, pop it in a microwave or an oven, and PRESTO! An hour later (TOPS!) you had a big sick plate of fattening processed garbage to scarf down without any effort whatsoever, and of course, because it's so cheap and easy, you can go back for seconds and thirds and tenths. No work involved.

     The "make it easy, make it better" approach to life here in our country is ruining our society. We're getting lazy, and fat, and stupid, and generally fucking worthless. More and more jobs are being created for us so we can think up new ways to sit on our asses, stuffing our faces, and doing nothing for hours and hours on end. And meanwhile, all the genuinely rewarding jobs, the get down, get dirty, work up a sweat JOBS that used to keep us in fairly decent shape are all being outsourced. So we go to work, we sit at desks all damn day to make up new products, and sell them so that we can go home and sit on our asses some more and use them. Fucking. Brilliant. I just don't know how we ever ever got by before today. Oh wait, yes I do. We got by because we weren't so fucking FAT and easily bored by sitting around getting FATTER! We didn't NEED fucking electric scooters to scoot our asses along because our bodies started falling apart from lack of use. We didn't NEED new fancy ways to dial a fucking phone with the least amount of effort. And we sure as fuck didn't need magic weight-loss pills that let you eat all you want and never exercise and still lose weight cause you're too fucking fat and lazy to get OFF YOUR ASS AND ACTUALLY FUCKING WORK FOR IT!

     There is a reason that you don't find obesity in "third world" countries, and all those less technologically advanced societies. It's because they actually have to fucking work to survive. They get up, and they bust real ass to put food on their tables. They work to accomplish tasks, and to get from point A to point B and back again. They don't have millions of stupid little gadgets that eliminate the need for physical activity or labor of any kind. If they want to talk to someone, they get off their fucking ass, and they walk over to their house, and fucking talk to them. They don't have coolers in their La-Z-Boy so they never have to get off their ass to get a drink. No, they actually get up, and use their fucking legs.

     Yeah, I know. I love my technology, too. But to be honest... I would fucking LOVE to just get away from it all. Go somewhere else where cell phones are a novelty, and where I actually have to prepare and cook my own food rather than just tossing it in a microwave for two minutes. Life is so fucking short, and we spend so much of it in passing. It's like we just sit around, and do nothing but take up space and consume. Like we've completely forgotten how to do anything else. It's sad. And I don't want to be that way anymore. So that's why I'm taking an oath to myself to be more involved with my life. I know that sounds weird, but so many of us never even bother to try living our lives. I mean, if we just tried it, just once, I swear, I think we'd wonder what the fuck we were doing before.

     I mean, I met this girl on the bus while I was coming back from Kansas, and I admired her so much. I never even got her name, but it's like she kicked up the dying embers in the seat of my soul, and said, "HEY! WAKE UP! LIFE IS PASSING YOU BY, AND YOU'RE MISSING IT!" She was only 18 years old, and she's walked and hitch hiked her way across the entire continental United States. Four years younger than me... and she's already lived more in her lifetime than I could ever have hoped to live in mine. She's seen everything, and just gotten by with what she has, which all fits into a backpack with a sleeping bag and a little tin cup dangling on a strap. And she told me that when she first started out, when she was 15, she weighed over 200 lbs. The girl I was looking at on that bus didn't look like she had EVER been over 125.

     It might sound like a really low place to set one's goals, being homeless and being able to fit everything you own into a backpack, but God... someday I hope that'll be me. I mean, can you even imagine the kind of bravery it takes to set out on an adventure like that? To just pack up a few things, and walk out the door, and never look back? I mean, with something like that, you might think about freedom and adventure, but fuck... just thinking about doing something like that makes my heart leap with fear. The what-ifs and what-abouts... to be able to get past that, and just fucking GO. Damn. That's a kind of courage that just takes my breath away. It's not like spur of the moment, save a man from drowning courage. It's a waking up every day of your life without ever knowing whats gonna happen next or when or why or how or even where, but still facing it with a smile on your face and an eager gleam in your eye kind of courage. To breathe every breath like it might be your last and fucking LIVE kind of courage. That's fucking beautiful in a way I can't even begin to describe.

     Yeah. Someday that's gonna be me. Ever since I was a little kid, I felt that pulling and yearning to see whats on the other side of the hill. To find out where the sun goes when it sets, and see whats hiding in the shadows under the trees. I always wanted to find out, and now I think it's time to start planning for just that.

      *sigh* Anyway, it's 6am now. I need to get dressed, and go face the world as I see it now. Peace out ladies.

Jewel - Life Uncommon

Dont worry mother
Itll be alright
And dont worry sister
Say your prayers and sleep tight
And itll be fine
Lover of mine
Itll be just fine

And lend your voices only
To sounds of freedom
No longer lend your strength
To that which you wish
To be free from
Fill your lives
With love and bravery
And you shall lead
A life uncommon

Ive heard your anguish
Ive heard your hearts cry out
We are tired, we are weary
But we arent worn out
Set down your chains
Until only faith remains
Set down your chains

And lend your voices only
To sounds of freedom
No longer lend your strength
To that which you wish
To be free from
Fill your lives
With love and bravery
And we shall lead
A life uncommon

There are plenty of people
Who pray for peace
But if praying were enough
It wouldve come to be
Let your words enslave no one
And the heavens will hush themselves
To hear our voices ring our clear
With sounds of freedom
Sounds of freedom

Come on you unbelievers
Move out of the way
There is a new army coming
And we are armed with faith
To live, we must give
To live

And lend our voices only
To sounds of freedom
No longer lend our strength
To that which we wish
To be free from
Fill your lives
With love and bravery
And we shall lead...

And lend our voices only
To sounds of freedom
No longer lend our strength
To that which we wish
To be free from
Fill your lives
With love and bravery
And we shall lead
A life uncommon

Monday, June 22, 2009

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 12:14:06 GMT

It's 5:30 in the morning, and the dog is sick. He keeps dry heaving, and not doing anything when I take him outside. I'm assuming it's because he's constipated. But that's not the reason I'm writing, only the condition in which I'm doing so. No, I'm writing because I'm finding myself in a position I far too often experienced while in the middle of my last relationship. I'm left awake, and feeling slightly ill from running on only a few hours of sleep, and from having this nasty wrenching in my gut telling me that I have done something wrong when for the life of me I can't think what the hell it might have been. And what kills is the fact that I find myself feeling that way a fucking lot lately.

I'm married now. That fact alone puts me in new waters. But another fact puts me there, too. In just about any other relationship, I would have run for the hills at the slightest scent of trouble. But here I am, trying for the life of me to work through the tangled web of emotions, because this time... I want it to work out. I don't want to be left running for the hills only to start over again on the other side.

But the simple, or rather complicated, fact of the matter is... I have no idea how the fuck I feel. Tiff is always angry, at one thing or another. Or maybe she isn't, and I just percieve it wrong. But the fact remains that there is always a charge about the air that says, "Danger." And I don't know if it's just me or not... and there is always something else. When things should be calm and relaxed, there is always something to stress the situation. Money, dishes, trash, laundry, the animals... I always feel like I'm not doing enough, or something, and it's driving me fucking mad because when I do do something, it's never right.

I'm not making enough money. I know this, and I can't work any harder. I've put in a few applications elsewhere, but nothing so far. That fact alone is stressful. I do not want to get into the job hunt again. I spent every fucking day in Washington stressing over the fact that I didn't have a job, and that I couldn't fucking find one despite my efforts. Just filling out an application fills me with a horrible sense of depression and anger I can't even rationalize. Added on top of that is the constant reminder from Tiff that it's not fucking enough. And I am SICK of hearing it. And every time she says it, she says it like I'm some kind of fucking idiot who doesn't quite understand the fact that we don't have enough money. I do understand. I DO. The simple fact of the matter is that I can't fucking change it, and I'm really sick of hearing about how I need to and hearing about how I should go about it.

Things seem like shit, but they really aren't. We are getting by just fine. We're not able to live in monetary comfort the way we'd both like, but we are getting by. We're getting by well enough to pay all the bills, and buy a couch. And were it not for the fact that we blow money on random shit, we wouldn't be struggling at all.

But it's still not enough. Or at least that's how it feels. Tiff wants money to get by and to blow. I'd like that, too. But the difference here is that she's laying a great deal of stress on having that money, and laying the sole responsibility for it on me. And it's pissing me off. I've spent the past 22 years in a stressful situation. I really do not fucking want to have to cope with another one when it really is not a requirement for my survival. Our ways of dealing with financial... whatever... is totally different. Right now, I would be happy with what we have. It's more than I've had in 10 years. We get by, there's food on the table, and a little extra to blow here and there. We blow more than we ought to, but even if we didn't, we would have it. But Tiff stresses about it constantly, and then stresses me about it... and I know that's just the way she is, but I am really fucking tired of it. I would love if we had the money to blow without having to worry constantly, but that is just not where we are right now.

And as much as I hate myself for even feeling this way, I really wish Tiff would just fucking accept what we have, and be happy with it until things can work themselves out. Because of the way things are, she's constantly pushing me to find another job, to get more hours, to move on to new things, but I don't fucking WANT to. THIS IS NEW. I am SICK of doing as I'm fucking told. And that's the way it is! With everything, it's do as Tiff says. And I HATE that I feel that way, but I fucking do, and try as I have, I can't fucking help that fact. I tried, I really did, but no matter how much I tried to shove that aside and say to myself that I didn't feel that way, I do. I feel like I've married a parental figure, and that I have to do as I'm told or I'm a horrible naughty child who has to face the wrath of an angry authority figure. And I am Fucking Sick of it. Sick of feeling that way, sick of being in any kind of position that makes me even think such things. I'm just fucking tired. And it's not even the fact that she is how she is, it's the trying not to be stressed and trying to be good enough and to not feel so fucking unhappy all the time. I hate it. I love Tiff, I know I do, and the whole root of my problem isn't even her. It's me. The way I feel, or the way I shouldn't feel, or the way I think I'm supposed to feel... I'm unhappy because I'm unhappy. I don't think I should be, but because I am, I hate myself, and the whole situation. And the problem is that I don't know why I'm unhappy. Sometimes I'm fine. When Tiff is smiling or we're talking or something, but when things go quiet or there's tension in the air... which is almost all the time... I just can't stop wanting to crawl in bed and cry.

I can't even tell if the things that bother me are things worth being bothered over, and because of that, I don't say anything, and then it just festers. I'm sick of how she tells me to stop when she thinks I'm doing something annoying. I'm sick of how she asks me who I am or when Marcy is coming back when I do something she finds obnoxious or out of the ordinary. I'm sick of how she looks at me like I'm immature and stupid and annoying. I'm just fucking sick. I hate feeling like some kind of obnoxious failure because she doesn't like me the way I am. She doesn't like my habits, the way my thoughts process, the way I speak randomly about random shit, or the fact that I want to have fun. I spent most of my life not having fun and not being myself because I was trapped, and now I'm free of that trap, only to find myself in a different kind of trap. It upsets me that I have to ask permission to do things. That I have to ask permission to have a drink of alcohol. That I have to endure the disapproving air when I have energy drinks or anything else she doesn't approve of. I am willing to compromise because that's what keeps a relationship together... but I feel like I'm the only one fucking bending here. I can get her to compromise on small things, but anything that would change her... I don't even ask for. And I don't want to because I don't want her to have to change. And I sure as hell don't want to have to change either, but I feel like I have to. I feel like I have to sit quiet and contrite lest I bother her in some unforeseen way. I feel... oppressed. Stifled. I don't know. I feel guilty for even feeling that way. But I do.

And I'm sick of how she talks to me like I'm some kind of idiot child. Like earlier when I asked what we should do with Tilla, if we should just go back to bed or not. And she got this look on her face and this tone in her voice like I was some kind of fucking idiot, and said that she'd only been asleep for two and a half hours, that she was sick and burning up, and that she was going back to bed, and didn't give a shit what I did. Like it's somehow my fucking fault that Tilla got sick, and that she doesn't feel good and hadn't been asleep long. I hadn't been asleep long either. I fell asleep only a few minutes before she came in. And that's only this one instance. She talks to me like that all the fucking time. It doesn't even matter what about, she gets that same tone in her voice, and that same look on her face like I'm just a fucking idiot that needs everything explained real slow... and I'm sick of it. No. I'm more than sick of it. I want it to stop. Everytime she fucking talks to me that way, I want to tell her to go to hell, and I want to leave.

And I'm really really sick of hearing my mom being ripped apart. I know she should leave my dad. I know she can be a doormat sometimes. I know she should get Talia checked out. She's far from perfect. But I don't care. She's my mother, and I love her despite it all, and I am really fucking tired of hearing how she's a horrible mother and an idiot for not leaving my dad, and I'm also sick of hearing how she can't be trusted and is unreliable. NOBODY can say that shit about her. I do not want to hear it anymore. Sharon isn't exactly the shining example of motherhood either, and she, too, continues to live with her idiot of a husband. But I don't fucking talk shit about her even though she has to have her daughter pay so she can see her, or fit her husband's time-frame allowance to do so.

I'm sick of all the bullshit. I want it to stop. Because I am really fucking sick of feeling like shit all the time. I hate that when everything is boiled down, all I can feel is unhappy. And I hate that I can't tell whether the unhappiness is because of the financial bullshit, because of Tiff or Me, or medical depression... or if maybe it's because we just don't fit. And what troubles me most is that I can't always rule that last one out. Sometimes I can say beyond any shadow of a doubt that we are meant to be, but at other times... I just don't know. I don't know how any two people can bother each other so much, and still be meant to be. I'm obviously too... fly-away... immature... I don't know. And she's too rigid, and serious, and bossy. On one hand, we should be perfect. Her groundedness to my flight... but as it stands, I feel suffocated and she finds me annoying and childish.

I don't know... all I know is that things have to change. I really want them to change. I want everything to work out, and I want to be happy. I want to be with the person I fell in love with. But I want to be with that person more than just every now and then. I'm sick of every little thing getting in the way; putting stress on the relationship, and making who we are... or who we were before... just disappear, engulfed in the stress of the moment. Swallowed up in the silence.

Whatever. I'm done. It's 8am now, and my thoughts have pretty much melted together into one great big blob of gray. I'm not even sure if this little rant makes any sense as it ran from one thing into the next. I can't think anymore. So I'm going to bed.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 14:05:18 GMT

Yep, hi. As every one has no doubt noticed, I suck at updating now. It seems like a bad thing, but I've found it's actually a very good thing. Less updates mean that I have less to bitch about which, by proxy, means that life is finally starting to work out the way I want it to. It's truly ironic the way it worked out, too. Right now I'm battling the highest weight I've ever been at, and yet... I can't really remember a time in my life that even begins to compair with the happiness and contentment that I have now.

The irony doesn't end there, though. I used to think that to find happiness, you had to surround yourself in wonderful things that made it that way. But actually, I got this way by cutting away everything that ever made me unhappy. Stagnant friendships with people I didn't really like, family members who, while greatly loved, brought more stress than happiness, habits, attitudes, everything. I cut all of it away, and got with the one person who didn't cause me a whole lot of stress, and then every thing else just sort of fell into place. I got a job, I'm going to go to school, TJ is going to school, we have our own house that's clean, and we're getting married. We're both finally free of our emotional tormentors, and life just looks fucking awesome.

Not to mention! We're both off of our meds now. It wasn't medically recommended, but we went off anyway, and now we both seem to be functioning better than ever. I mean, I, a schizoid with serious social anxiety, just got a job as a god damn server, and I'm not panicking over it. I'm actually excited! I think the universe was telling us something. Things just were not going the way we wanted for the longest time there, and the reason being, I think, is because we wanted them to work out without getting rid of the problems in our lives. And then the very instant we got rid of them, *poof*, every thing starts going our way. Her aunt left, and the very next day I got a job. I had been looking before that (not very hard, but still looking), and nothing even remotely promising turned up.

And to make things better, my eating disorder has come back in full swing. I don't really have to think about losing weight to lose it. I'm down 5 pounds in three days. Much to my amazement because I was still eating. Not much, but I was. And last night I had a ton of soup, and even some ice cream. Low carb ice cream, but still ice cream. But I got up, and I'd lost 2 pounds. And now that I'm working, the weight will fall off like a stripper's clothes! All that walking around, and being around so much food... I won't have an appetite for it.

But yeah, it's almost 10am now, and TJ is supposed to be getting up so we can go get my work pants and shoes, and then drop by a friend's so we can pay him and his boytoy the $200 we owe them. We bought a bed from them for $200, paid off half, and they also loaned us $100 so I could get my GED. It's awesome, the bed we bought, mattress included, costs about $1400. It's really nice. But he gave it to us for $200.

Anyway! Thinspo and then I'm off.

Thinspo