well hello

well hello

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Legs like these.

I'm not sure how I got to be this crazy. I am seriously psycho.

It's about twenty after four, and I'm smoking my first bowl of the day and listening to sad music. You don't have to tell me, I know: I'm pathetic.

Oh, the self-loathing.

I used to be a happy girl. I was confident, outgoing....temperamental, aggressive. I guess I've always had aspects of me that were way less than perfect.

So I ended up binging last night on cheese and triscuits and candy. My calorie total for the day was through the roof, I refuse to repeat it here.
I did manage to check some things off my list, like the dishes and cleaning the cat litter and bill paying. The easy stuff. I always do the easy stuff. Oh, and I actually studied a little. I waited all day, until one in the morning (I had my test at eight) then started filling out my review sheet. It was too easy, I should have done it during the day, and read at night, and I would be super sure right now that I did good.
Unfortunately that is not the case, but I am sure I passed.

I come on to write about something but rarely get to it.
Today, I had a nervous breakdown. A slight one, if they can be slight. Just cried and yelled a bit, and rammed my head into hard surfaces, and paced angrily.
Because I want to find another apartment for when my lease ends in August, and I am having no luck. Everyone I call is against pets. I have a cat. Therefore, life sucks. I don't resent him for existing. But there are times, horrible times, when I wish I didn't have him. He is a lot of work and money, and we don't sleep the same hours, but I love him.
I can't/won't get rid of my cat.
Another reason for my breakdown was T. not answering my text. Ouch. I hate that, for some reason. I texted him twice about the book reading we had planned for tonight. We hadn't talked yet today.
Nothing...than more nothing...than denial from 4 or 5 different landlords...than more nothing from T.
Hence the breakdown.

My head hurts.
Needless to say, I called T. almost an hour after I originally texted him. He didn't answer. I sighed in frustration, and felt like killing myself (yes over this dude, I'm a loser).
He called right back.
He wants to go still. I got off the phone real quick, to avoid ...what exactly? To avoid expressing any emotion, I suppose. Then he texted me about smoking before. Well sure, why not. But that is not stopping me from smoking now. And a cig. Then a shower. Then store to get more cigs and meet up with D. for green. Then T. time.

I feel sick. I am either intensely ignoring a bad gut feeling about him, or I am so passionately infatuated with him my brain can't help but torture itself, for a relief from the seratonin drip drip dripping when I think of him.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I must stop asking that, I know what's wrong. I'm fucked in the head. It is a direct result of years of drug experimentation and separation from my family and evil men fucking me over, mainly this guy (jobless, with a child & a serious pill addiction) I lived with for over a year.

Ok sure, my life has not been grand, but I am healthy right? No (diagnosed) terminal illness, all limbs intact, "pretty" by American standards, family, a few friends, cat, blahblah.
I can't be cheery right now.

I will starve the rest of this day, there is no doubt in my mind. I hate food. I hate what it does, it makes me fat. I hate feeling fat, I love feeling thin. I will be thinner. I will not fuck this up. I had one bad night, doesn't mean anything. It maybe helped boost my metabolism. I am ok. I will not be fat anymore. I will be thin. I will be thin. I will be thin!

I will have legs like these. Will you?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You are not a loser, nor are you pathetic!
*insert near-panicked English accent - you know the one*

Okay, I admit, I smoked a bit earlier, as well. BUT it's no excuse - you are awesome.

I'm sorry you went through the thing with Mr. Pill-popper - been there, done that [sorta], not fun, emotional hell. Fortunately, there's hope. T sounds like a douche, please don't mind me saying that. Granted, I'm being judgmental, but whatevvvvv. You deserve so much better than some guy who's using you for drugs and feeling... from my verydistantfaraway view.

Hold on, lady, you'll make it!