Thursday, June 24, 2010


I'm not entirely sure what has been preoccupying my mind lately, but my posts have been sketchily added at best.  I need to get back in the groove and post daily again!  You would think that since I'm living on my own now with nothing better to do with my time that I would be posting constantly...apparently not.  Weird because I'm really not doing anything else productive.

I haven't weighed myself in several days because I'm scared to.  I know I've lost a few pounds in the past few days, but since last week I binged terribly (without purging much, mind you), I gained weight.  Also, my mom is still convinced that my only problem is wanting to lose 10 lbs, which will be fixed once the weight comes off.  She fully supports my efforts.  I know better than her, however, because I am fully aware than 10 lbs will not be enough.  Neither will 20, nor 30, nor 40...I'm depressed and while losing weight makes me feel a quick sense of accomplishment and self worth, it is only a fleeting sensation.  It disappears as quickly as it occurs.  I think my mom is also convinced that I am just a bitch and was being plain rude last weekend when I refused to go out for my birthday.  I didn't want to hurt my friends' feelings, but I just couldn't muster the strength nor the courage to face the public eye.  I couldn't drag myself out of my own little shell to smile at other people with a fake laugh and fake happiness and fake energy that everyone else seems to think is the real me.  They don't see me staring at the wall, huddled in the darkness of my room, which is how I spent the majority of my hours.  They think it's uncharacteristic and "not like me," but that's how I've been for years...I'm just good at hiding it behind a smile that means nothing.

I can't help but wonder how long this will last.  I think I'm going on five years now, and it's kind of a lonely existence.  I have no real interest in anything, to be honest, and nothing captivates my attention for a very long period of time.  Not even people.  Perhaps I really am crazy; sometimes I think so.  My mom wants me to see someone, like a counselor or something, but I don't know that I want to do that.  I don't think she understands the extent of my problem here.  I can tell that I'm falling deeper into my own misery, trying to make myself intentionally more miserable, because that's what I feel I deserve.  Monday I actually had the will and strength (or weakness, depending on how you see it) to drink a bottle of ipecac that I bought three years ago and never opened.  I never thought I would actually do it, and let me just mention, that while it's definitely possibility I would do it again, it is not a pleasant experience.  Sure, vomiting and getting rid of the contents of your stomach is nice, but dry heaving and feeling as thought your stomach is going to come up through your mouth?  Not so pleasant.  And I drank it before going to they let me off early as I clearly could not function.

That night, I didn't go to bed for some reason.  I stayed up all night and then went to bed early the following night, sleeping for 15 hours.  And last night?  Yeah, didn't go to bed again.  I enjoy the quiet solitude that the middle of the night brings to my peace of mind, and I just sit, listening to music, and drawing, willing the day to be delayed as long as possible.  You see, if you're awake, time is slower, but if you sleep, then you wake up to the dreaded day in a snap.  I try to delay life as long as possible, and therefore, I am afraid to sleep.  Anyone else feel like that?

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