Old Habits Die Hard

I'm back.

It's been a while since I last posted, primarily because I didn't have a functioning computer but also because I've been so disappointed in myself. I get in slumps, and lately I've started plummeting again. I gained 5lbs, though still weigh less than I did in college, and I'm about to start graduate school. I'm in a small town, and I know I'm going to find it difficult to learn to establish real relationships. Eventually, someday, I will stop running from the world. But for now, I'm still picking up my heavy feet and sprinting towards a place that I don't yet know.

I recently bought razors again even though I've almost made a year (if you discount one moment of curiosity). I still have the scars, and I cannot wear short sleeves. I also have a random scar in the shape of a star on my hip...that one I still don't understand. Sometimes I use a blade because I'm ashamed of myself, but sometimes I use it merely because I feel like it. Perhaps if I sat down and pondered my actions, I would come up with a more concrete reason for my moments of absurdity, but I don't have time nor do I care. It wouldn't make a difference.

I have been running on little sleep, and I am exhausted. And yet, I am awake in the middle of the night. I have a tendency to delay going to sleep in order to postpone tomorrow. Maybe that's a sign of depression, but I've been like this all my life and have accepted who I am. I am an outwardly relaxed, go-with-the-flow kind of girl, but on the inside I'm a paranoid, terrified nut. If I had the motivation, I would explain one of my most recent episodes of paranoia. Looking back on it, I should probably keep it to myself because it's embarrassing, illogical, and potentially damaging to my fake semblence of sanity.

Meanwhile, goodnight and sweet dreeams. I will post an update on my newest diet creation and some new poems that I have spun recently. I apologize for the delay, and I hope someone is still interested in reading something.

more fruitless words in my wilted mind

I'm like a bird flying against the wind,
struggling to keep control of my wings.
     I can only hope that my dreams won't be lost
     as the blackened clouds roll in.


     I'm like an insect fighting against the storm,
     the pestilence the world abhors.
          But I only wish that the things I hold dear
          won't be crushed by what I hear.


               I'm like a fish swimming in the sea,
               surrounded by others within in reach.
                    Yet I'm drowning; I can't breathe.
                    Loneliness is drowning me.


And I can't distinguish between fantasy and reality;
I cannot find the line between what is wrong or right.

Sun, Sun, Go Away. Leave My Misery For Another Day.

Sometimes when it rains, I can't help but smile.  It's like the sky can feel my pain and the clouds want to cry. Why give the sun all the glory when it always shines so bright.  Up and down it goes, always the same.  Up and down it rises and sets to bring another day.  How I'd wish it away.  The sun doesn't feel my pain; it doesn't cry in sympathy.  The Sun, you'll never know tragedy.

The Things They Say And The Things We Hear

I received one of the greatest compliments, in my opinion, from a friend a few weeks ago.  Well, I suppose one wouldn't necessarily consider it a compliment persay, but I appreciated it all the same.  The context of the story was me mentioning to my friend that my recent foot problems were caused by me being, apparently, incredibly pigeon-toed.  As a baby, I even had those shoes with the bar in between to fix the problem.  Clearly that didn't quite work.  At least being pigeon-toed is better than the latter, walking around with your feet pointing outwards and looking awkward.  Now I'm getting sidetracked.  What my friend commented was, "You're so adorably flawed."

Now, some people might not appreciate that, but I did.  Being told I'm perfect all the time is exhausting.  It forces me to try to live up to this high expectation that other people invariably set for me, and it frustrates me when I know that I'm not as perfect as they seem to believe.  Obviously.  I'm a bit of a mess on the inside and on my arms, though they're covered in silk and lace.  What I loved was being told that I'm not perfect, but I'm loved anyway.  And this is why this particular friend has been the only one that I open up to (sometimes) and the one that I want to keep in my life.  It's nice to know that even though I screw up, cause problems, and have no conscience, I still have someone who cares about me.

People say things that they think will have positive reactions, but we often hear their words differently.  I frequently hear something firsthand and then hear a retelling secondhand, and the stories never match up.  Somewhere there's a disconnect between our ears and their mouth...actually that disconnect is called air.  It's the space between us, and the space that separates us.  It's the gap that clearly shows the differences between our minds and bodies, and it's the reason that we can't communicate our thoughts in a way that they're received properly.  Of course, it will always be there, and personally, I somehow have a disconnect between my brain and just about everything else in reality.

My friend will never know how much she means to me, but I don't think there will ever be someone like her.  I know that I don't mean nearly as much to her, but that's okay.  Because even though I'm flawed...someone thinks I'm adorable.

Tis the Season

Merry Christmas.  I find this to be one of the most anticlimactic days of the year.  It's the day that I realize that all the cheer and all the joy that people pretended to have for the past month will be gone in mere hours.  I love Christmas(time), but the actual day itself is borderline depressing.  I admit that I find that many things in life have that quality, but that's for another day's musings.

Christmas is a beautiful time of year.  People pretend to be happy, gathering together and laughing while consuming large quantities of alcohol, buying gifts for people they don't truly care for, and consuming foods that will cause them to gain at least 10 pounds under the protection of the "It's the Holidays" excuse.  Yes, it's a beautiful time of year.  We will all pretend to be happy while secretly feeling guilty and drowning our sorrows with gifts and lights.

I think one of the reasons I love Christmas lights is that, at least for a little while, I have something that will brighten my life.  It's unfortunate that eventually the strands come down and the lights go out and reality comes crashing back in as the darkness once again envelops my visions.  

But for now, I'm going to enjoy my day of dreaming and my final hours of pretending.  For tomorrow the lights will be just a bit dimmer and reality will be that much closer.

Another year comes and another year goes; round and round is how our lives go.

Selfishly Wishing For A Friend

Being a bridesmaid is hell.  I hear it all the time in movies, on tv, and from people I've met. You have to pay lots of money to buy a dress that you'll never wear again or have your hair and makeup done in a way that looks hideous but makes the bride feel better about herself.  It's not always like that, of course, but it seems to be so more often than not.  I bring this up not because I'm going to be a bridesmaid but on the contrary.  I'm nearing the age when friends people I know are beginning to consider their weddings or future engagements.  And when I think about it, I realize that there is not a single person who would choose me as one of their closest friends to be in their wedding.  And as selfish a thought as it is, I can't help but wonder what is so wrong with me that I can't be a decent friend.

Perhaps I close myself off too much.  I've heard that close bonds form when two people are open to each other, but I'm a one way street.  I listen, I give advice, but I can't ask for it in return or offer my own feelings.  Similarly, I let my relationships slip through my fingers.  I don't keep in touch, I act elusive, and I can't form any lasting bonds.  Friends that I used to have made new ones, and I was lost in time.  They like to see me, but I'm like a distant memory.  It hurts every once in a while, but I have no one to blame but myself.  Few, if any, have ever made it through my walls, and they don't like to stay within them.  Maybe people just don't think I value friendships when I don't contact them or seem to care when lapses of time have passed without conversing; I often wonder whether I am simply incapable of it.  Are there people in the world, like me, who just can't form sincere friendships?  Am I just too much of a flake to be considered a treasured companion?  I offer light entertainment briefly before I once again disappear into the wind.  Who wants a friend who comes and goes like the rain?

I'm not reliable, I'm never constant, and I'm always running.  Even now I'm looking into graduate programs across the country, and I can tell you that I will move without regret or turning back.  I won't miss people, just like I won't value the new ones that I meet.  Life is always changing and I never seem to stop moving.  I may never be a bridesmaid, and I'm okay with that.  But I don't think I'd even make the guest list.  I can assure you that I'm really not talking about weddings.  Or rather, I am, but that's not the point.  I selfishly wish for a friend who would call me just to hear my voice.  And here I sit, alone in my dark room, knowing that I could change but seemingly lost upon how to do it.

We were born into this world as single beings, and perhaps for some of us, that is how we were meant to stay.

Secrets Secrets Are No Fun

I finally put up Christmas decorations today, and now my house feels infinitely more festive.  I wish I could enjoy the holiday season a bit more, but as it is, I'm a little overly stressed at the moment. Work has been obnoxiously busy, and I'm applying to graduate school with the full knowledge that my grades are pathetically below desirable.  There are too many things going on for me, and I'm struggling a bit to cope with all of it.  This is one of those times that I wish I had a friend.

Working with girls my age is great because they're a lot of fun, but I don't like for fellow employees to know personal things about me, even if they're more like friends.  I like to go to work, pretend as though my life is perfect, and act cheerfully.  Sometimes it feels like I'm living a lie, but I'd rather do that than see pitying, knowing eyes staring at me like they did back in high school when you can only hide your problems for so long.  Still, there's certainly times I wish that I had someone to confide in about things - nothing deep or particularly serious (I only have one friend for that, if she asks when I'm drunk) but just anything to get of my chest.  I had my first ever boyfriend, I guess you could call him, last summer.  It was only a month, and we both mutually (thank god) decided it just wasn't really working.  I never told the girls at work; they think I still have never had one.  I can never mention it to them for certain reasons, but on top of that, they also completely and utterly lack the ability to keep secrets.  I, however, do keep them.  One woman told me something she didn't want the others to know, and when I didn't say anything and they found out I had known the whole time, they wanted to know why I didn't tell them.  I suppose I just feel that when someone tells me a story, it's theirs to tell and not mine to share.

Anyway, I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving.  Mine was great except for the fact that I definitely gained 5 lbs and purged every day I was there.  Doing so in a relative's house with people around all the time is awful, and I recommend not doing it...ever.  I've totally done it at my grandparents, too, but moving on.  I much prefer my private, hidden away bathroom at home.  My own personal haven for my twisted mind.  Now I'm going to burn off the pita chips I consumed today.  Whoops :(