Merry Christmas!

It`s actually been a very smooth eve and day for me, and I hope that any readers out there have been having a good one as well. I know that these times can be lonely, stressful, anxiety-ridden or what have you; I was completely expecting that. Over the past couple of weeks I had been only eating a certain number of things exactly when I wanted to eat them, and I was a little worried that the combination of being around a large number of people and a large amount of food would be tremendously exhausting for me.

Weirdly enough, though, I`ve been riding on a bit of a confidence high as of late. Going out for two nights in the bars back home has been very different from the northeastern scene...much more complimentary I guess? It`s hard to explain and it is definitely not getting to my head, but I think the mixture of finally getting out of bed regularly, being around my dog and seeing people a lot more has had a nice impact on my general outlook.

Now it`s time to re-buckle down. I got a yoga mat for Christmas, and there`s aa really nice gym right by my house that I can go to before I leave for school once again. To finish up college once and for all. Still can`t get over how bizarre of a concept that is.

I just need to get out of here. Break out of this body, find some other way to exist. Accidentally slept through my psych appt today. She's going to think of it as a cry for help, when really it was a mistake. I needed it. I have no one to talk to right now.

I don't care about anything anymore. But I'm trying to finish what I've set out to do, because I know that eventually I will.

Where has my strength gone? I'm just an empty sack of pathetic nothing. Hurt by everything, always fucking up.

I just want to lay in bed forever with no one to see me disappear.

Stupid girl, dry your eyes...

Last night I fell asleep with tears on my pillow. As of late, that has become a relatively common occurrence, but for all intents and purposes, last night was a pretty good one. I was was outgoing, made some new friends, just generally hid behind the I'm-okay mask that can go up when necessary. But the mask got a chip in it right when we were about to leave. The thing that kills me was that it was so fucking petty. The guy that I had been talking to for the past half hour just mentioned his girlfriend and I said oh ok and got up to meet my friend, and he stated "oh, you didn't think I was flirting with you, did you?"

It pisses me off that a nobody, a stranger in a bar has the ability to put a dagger through my very limited self-worth with just a sentence. And not even know or care that he did so. Of course you wouldn't be flirting with me, because who would be flirting with a cow? No one wants livestock. The cab ride home was spent laughing about the people we had met, but as soon as my roommate was asleep I started battling with myself about wanting to cut. I kept away from it, but this is exactly why I talk myself down from crushes - no man will have control over me like this.

I guess the issue comes down to who I want controlling how I feel about myself. I've learned from a whole lot of women in my life than men are far to flimsy to base a self esteem on; the scale is what I much prefer to go by.

Legs look like they might be shrinking, but that is always an optical illusion, for they fan out into a blob an soon as they reach solid ground. It's as if they're mocking me - "go ahead, try and think you're doing better, think that eating one meal each day is working, but this disgusting growth will always mock."

Last night, as I sat maniacally pedaling on an exercise bike, I realized that I couldn't stop until certain numbers were reached. First it was minutes, but no, the calories weren't right, then the miles were off; constantly, everything needed to be checked to be certain that I was in sync and that all was alright with my world. Numbers are so much clearer than the vague concepts I'm trying to grasp, they seem like the only thing worth holding onto at times.

So far it's a perfect fall day. So far have had a banana and some water. So far, life feel pretty good.

Limbo

It worries me how easily lies flow from these lips. How I couldn't make my office hours or into work because of a migraine when really I couldn't stand the thought of people seeing me. So I slept. Like the fat piece of shit that I am. For fourteen hours. What a fucking winner am I.

I wish I could pull a disappearing act but still graduate on time. I don't know when this dark cloud will break, but all of these know-it-nots who think I can just leave and pick it back up have another thing coming. If they don't think this will already kill me, doing that surely will.

I just want to be back in a theater, I want to be doing what I love all day. I want to be actually moving forward with my life instead of being forever stuck in this mire. I want, I want, I want. Too bad Santa's just a fake guy with sky-high cholesterol.

It's kind of funny, it's kind of sad.

"I'm here for you"
"Are you sure you're okay?"

People want to be there; I get that. But I also feel that if I were ever to tell the people that I am closest with what I'm actually thinking, they would freak out. Why do I really not want a relationship? The reason I give them: I'm too busy and relationships take time. The real reason: I could never trust a guy in a relationship to stay with me because I couldn't believe that they would ever want to be with me. I would never be able to comprehend what someone could see in me that would make them want to stay more than a night.

How could someone ever look at me the same knowing that at my core, I'm so deeply broken? Eventually they would give up, knowing that they can't fix this. So, sure, you're here for me, and i'm not okay, but you will never know how bad.

Don't.

Trying to convince myself not to throw up. It's getting harder and harder, but the fact that I have three roommates who could barge into the bathroom at any moment is working against the food that is wants to leave my body desperately. This is why I hate communal living sometimes, among many other reasons - I wouldn't have to feel so ill if I had my own place, wouldn't have to worry about being found out. I can't even really focus on this paper (which I need to write), ironically about the Inferno - how much of what I'm doing is a sin? Not that I really believe in the whole heaven / hell ideology, but I do believe in living as moral of a life as possible simply because that's what's we're supposed to do. But enough of those shenanigans.

Quite tired from work, and still have loads of work to do. I have friends visiting from my work this summer later in the week (actually one gets in tomorrow, yikes), so I really won't have time to do work any time other than tonight. A scary idea indeed. I hope that I'm what they remember me to be, and that they enjoy themselves. I feel like a lot has changed with me, I've definitely ebbed and flowed with my depression as of late, so I hope that I'm somewhat what they expect. With the world that we occupy, I might just see them again, I would hate to leave either of them with a bad taste in their mouths.

I think I'm going to see a psychiatrist again. I don't want to come home at night and have to cry before going to bed. I don't want to feel so bad about myself that emotional pain becomes physical. And I certainly don't want to talk about this with anyone of my friends; heaven forbid that I appear anything besides what I'm supposed to be. Sure, we all can have "bad nights," but that's just from a bad reaction to tequila or some other bullshit. By the time we're 21, we're supposed to have all of our issues figured out, or at least kept to ourselves I feel. Regardless, I'm not handling myself well, and I don't know why I can't deal anymore. I just want something to make me feel normal again.

Could things possibly be getting better?

I had so many beginnings of posts which never saw the light of day; I just couldn't ever really find an ending. For this past month I've been living a sort of half-life, one where I just drift from place to place, wishing to fade into the landscape rather than ever be noticed. However, these past couple of days (since Monday) have been giving me hope - ever since I've gotten over this strange virus which confused the doctor, things are starting to seem a little bit better. My mum is visiting this weekend, then one of my closest friends from my job this summer is stopping in for a few days next week. While this will be an added stress on top of college, trying to balance entertaining a guest who hasn't really seen much of this city before, I am so glad to see a familiar face again.

Since I'm no longer doing over a million things nor am I weighed down by disease, I have finally been able to start going to the gym again. I've forgotten how great soreness feels. My roommate always wants to eat after workouts, and eat later at night; I've been guilty as of late of the same thing. But I can't still look this bad come Halloween, come Christmas, come all of the little goals that I set for myself. Well, this weakness is ending now. It has before.

Another busy day tomorrow, but if life isn't constantly in motion, no calories can get burnt.

Done.

I've begun to lose hair now. And I know that it is because of the purging, because restriction has never done this to me before. This is insane...this little habit that I just happened to pick up as simply as one would start drinking diet instead of regular is thinning my hair.

Unfortunately, there is no way that I could pull this look off. I just happen to have a massive girl-crush on Ms. Portman. Another negative: my teeth are becoming more sensitive even though I have been using floride every day. No more. And I can't even imagine if the roommate found out. I knew that all these things would come. I'm not an idiot. I just suffer from an invincibility complex...the kind that most children have, where you stuff your fingers in your ears, sings songs, and nothing can harm you. Turns out, that only works against monsters under the bed.

So. Because I have issues with finding a middle ground between extremes, I am going to go ahead and head towards my other pole. Hopefully I will find my hair in the process. I am just lucky that the only food that I currently have in my possession is miso soup, for my willpower has somehow left the building when my hormones entered (thank you monthly gift). Fruit and tea for me.

Also added to my list of no-mores: laxatives. That pain added to cramps today made for a very uncomfortable class and work session. Lesson learned.

Wanting

I just have to survive one more week. One more week of smiling, one more week of waking when all I wish to do is sleep so that I can dream of a world that's anything better than this, one more week of listening to songs that speak to me of a life that I want. One more.

I'm having a hard time with living lately. Something so basic, it seems, yet it constantly eludes me. Is it a problem that I still haven't decided whether I really want to be alive? I still fantasize about how I'll die quite often...it's not at a ripe old age, surrounded by family and friends.

In my abnormal psych class, one of the things they say that acts as a deterrent for people that are thinking of suicide is to have people that care about them. One does not want to off oneself when one thinks of those left in the wake. While that is a slight concern, I know that everyone would get over it. At least my friends would. Sure, they would be sad, but I haven't really made enough of an impression on their lives to warrant true tragedy. And this is oddly freeing. I feel as though I can wander between the two worlds. However, I do have something that is keeping me anchored to this earth: I can't die fat.

Typing that makes me cringe, but it's true. I guess I'm vapid, but there's something so beautiful in having nothing left to lose to me. I think that's from Mayra's book.

I have a week until I leave for Ireland. In that week, I have two tests and an essay. And it will be a week of entirely fruit consumption, because I love oranges.

Frustration

I feel so horribly, regretfully stupid.

And, because I'm a walking cliche, it's about a boy. He's a bit of a flirt, which I am not. What can I say? I fell for his ease of mannner, for his every present smile, for the occassional hand on my shoulder. I felt this desperate need to touch him, to be touched. I let myself pretend that I could somehow seduce him (what a joke..), make him want me. As I fell asleep, I had visions of romance, feeding myself with delusions of a perfect life that could one day be mine.

I went to a party last night. The flirtation was gone. Or at least, shifted to another. There's always the logic, well you can be friends first...

I don't want another friend. I have enough fucking friends. I want someone who wants to fuck me. I want someone who wants me as something more than someone to talk to. I want someone who can't wait to see me because the attraction has been bubbling all day.

I left with my pride, merely dying a little inside on the walk home. And I wasn't even particularly self-destructive upon arriving home. I must be getting more grown-up.






If I'm not wanted by them, at least I can make myself someone that I can stand to live with.

FRUSTRATION

I cannot handle communal living much longer. I would like to make a public service announcement: Will everyone kindly vacate the fucking premises so that I can vomit in peace? Thank you. I feel as if I just ate my mother fucking weight in melted cheese and it is now attaching itself to my innermost linings, but and it is becoming a cancerous mold forcing me to grow. I was weak. I believed that the public bathroom on the first floor would have a touch more, how you say, privacy...i was quite horribly wrong. And now I'm left with even more fat attaching itself to my unwilling muscles, crushing my beautiful bones, eating away at my soul. The food is even creeping up my throat, begging to be let out. Voices scream at me to let it, to free myself of this burden that I have grabbed. I am disgusting, worthless..

And two fingers could end this pain.

Good things have happened, dear nameless and faceless void that I write to. I could spend hours writing them out, but I think I shall retreat to my paper journal for a short while. Technology is both a blessing and a curse, and I'm sure that I will be unable to keep from reading blogs due to my search for connection, however false that may be, but I just want to write from my wrist. Feel the ache in my hand after a long confession. Bless me father for i have sinned.

Flying and Lying

Reds, yellows, orange. Crackle. Pop. Flames lick, dance, and desperately cling to the faux log, begging for life. Mother sits flipping through channels on the couch, absentminded. Nothing is on.
Wait.
You want to watch this? What is it?
Intervention.
She looks at me, accepts and puts the clicker down. Satisfaction. It's the tail end, right before he woman is to be intervened. She is an alcoholic and a bulimic. I look at her and the first thing that I think is that she isn't even skinny.
You would never do that to yourself would you?
What?
Make yourself throw up.
No. Of course not.
Good. It's so pathetic.
Flashback to me with fingers down my throat with the water running a couple of rooms down while she was asleep. Taking a break, I hear a knock. Panic. What are you doing? I reply pooping. That I like the water running in case I make embarrassing noises. She believed. She always believes.

I am a liar. Worse yet, I felt no shame. It's the same as when I smoke. Sure, it's against the law, but it is not a law that I believe in. I am not above laws, but I give myself little invincibility complexes. Nothing can hurt me, I don't need anyone, food is only necessary for some. I fool myself into believing that I am moral, that I am good, but I am just a shell.

Today I flew. I stood on top of the world and I spit in it's face. Alright, it was blue slopes in a mountain in Canada. Thankfully, I had an instructor since I haven't been in ages and he was great. Embodiment of Australian blasé attitude. I one day wish to have that nonchalance but clearly am a bit of a dweller. The wind was nearly blowing me away, but it was an amazing feeling. Normally I am torn apart by myself; being flung about by something natural was a rather nice change of pace. And the speed. O, the speed. Nothing compares to seeing the world fly past with absolutely nothing separating you.

Magic

I am beginning to think that I am by nature a hedonist. But the most basic definition of that, one that pursues pleasure above all else, leaves much to be desired. I'm living a life in pursuit of beauty, of knowledge, of lust, of connection, of romance. At the same time, I take pleasure from denial, the denial of survival. Normal people think they need to eat and sleep to survive, but not I! One has these perks with the immortality of 20something ignorance.

But onto the magic. I never wish to forget the place that I am in. If anyone has the chance to travel up north, make the treck to Banff during the winter. I've been coming since I was a tot (lived in Canada until I was ten), but I haven't really appreciated the beatuy until now. Such is life: when you're little, you constantly seem to be looking at your parents shoes and trying not to fall while not taking in the splendor around you. The trees in these mountains are pregnant with snow, and everywhere you look there it something to take your breath away. I don't know what gods deigned me fortunate enough to come here, but i am quite glad for it.