Existence Ceded's Blurty Entries [entries|friends|calendar] Existence Ceded [ userinfo | blurty userinfo ] [ calendar | blurty calendar ]

[12 Jan 2004|12:27am] [ mood | disgusted ] Sitting and feeling sorry for myself. I rant "I hate you" every time I see myself in the mirror. I stare at myself for ten minutes at a time, seeing every line, every wrinkle, every blotch and pore, and I hate myself more. I've drenched myself in loathing and hatred, and all I can do now is sit here, wishing I was some one else, and feeling hopeless that I ever will be. I'm feeling...sad, and betrayed. Self conscious, afraid, needy. I'm hurt, by something that I shouldn't batt an eye lash at. I'm being too sensitive, but it's nice to know I wasn't missed. I prefered thinking that she was just studying very hard, rather than to read that the "only thing" she "really missed" was the map, which I understand completely. She shouldn't have to watch her words, it's her damned journal, but yeah. Should and would don't ammount to anything, and they don't keep me from hurting. I'm over sensitive, I know, my journal--I can rant as I damn well please. *sighs* I'm not even up to ranting. I'm not worth it, I know. Has there gotten to be that little? Or am I just expecting that much? Not even a mention. Oh well. I do'nt mean that much, and I should stop thinking that I do. God, I can't keep going over this. >.< IT's tearing me up, for nothing more than one fucking sentence in a journal. How pathetic is that? I'm too obsessive, and there are plenty of other things to be obsessive over than what some one else did or didn't mean. I've got a mirror to go sneer into. 1 comment|post comment

[06 Jan 2004|12:57am] [ mood | distressed ] I bought a mirror today. A cheap little door mount mirror that I've been staring into for the past hour. Shame, disgust, disbelief, sinking depression, loathing, that's just the aftermath. *shakes head* It's hard to believe that this could have happened, yeah? The thought of looking at myself makes me feel nauseas. God, how could I be so blind? I don't know how I keep thinking that I'm okay, that I'm even pretty. I'm...there's nothing right to describe it. A fleshy sack of shit? I'm lost. How do I keep deluding myself? I'm...I can't. *shakes head* I can't comprehend. I'm going to go to bed, and look again in the morning. The grotesque visage that's haunting the looking glass tonight will be gone by then, and who I really am will look back in the morning. Please. Please. post comment

[05 Nov 2003|01:43pm] [ mood | tired ] Update time, I guess. *smiles* Writing things down is so much help when it comes to cementing things that I hope for into reality. To list what I want helps to keep my mind on it. I gained weight. I expected it, I binged for the past two days and ate anything I damn well pleased, knowing this was coming. Now, I have the rest of the week to loose everything I gained, and I am giving myself a week more to loose 5 more. My hair is thrashed, completely and utterly. I can’t wear it down with out constantly touching it to make sure everything’s in place. I fucked that up big, and am still working on it. I’m slowing down now, so hopefully I wont do too much more damage, although I’m not certain what it matters anymore. I’ve had 320 calories today. I don’t intent to increase that amount. *purses lips* We had two speeches in my speech class about anorexia and bulimia. They did a lot to remind me what I’m working for. A body can go typically 3 weeks without food. Severe anorexics usually fast for a week at a time, from what I’ve seen. Others do it one day on, one day off. *tilts head* I have a goal now, where before it was just aimless determination. One day on, one day off, at first. Then we’ll move up to two days off, and one day on. Until I can make it to a week. That will take a long time…but I need direction, a goal, and I can do that. I know I’ll fail a lot, but I’ll succeed eventually, and that’s what matters. *amused* It sounds like so much. And it’s hard to understand sometimes to me how wonderful I am doing. Physically, perhaps not, but mentally, I’m getting there, and that’s what’s going to count. Three meals a day and I berate myself for being a pig. I feel like I’m pushing it to have a snack after school, and then dinner at night. The idea of only consuming 500 calories seems like way too much to me. I consume more than that on average, of course, I’m still a fat pig, but mentally, I know it’s too much, and that I should be below that. *shakes head* God, I have so much fat on me, I feel I could live forever off of it. *tilts head* A speech today was about health and fitness, given by a girl studying to be a soft ball coach. She’s very masculine, and looks more like a guy than a chick, and it was easy to listen to her, because it wasn’t threatening. When a beautiful girl gets up there to talk about health and the like, it’s hard to pay attention without staring at her wistfully, wishing I looked like that. Anyway, she passed out a chart to every one that shows the ‘healthy,’ ‘moderately over weight,’ and ‘severely over weight’ categories for people’s height and weight. It’s interesting to see that the very edge of healthy weight for some one my height is 125 lbs. *purses lips* So…that’s my goal. It’s odd, that square in the center of the healthy weight for my height is 150. That’s…such a huge difference, I don’t know how they can both be in the same category. *shakes head* Anyway, that’s huge, and I don’t want to touch that. *amused* This whole thing has taken on a speed of it’s own…and I’m rather pleased with that. It will continue when I don’t particularly feel the desire to, and hopefully, that will keep me from giving it up when things get tough. 125…*tilts head* I don’t even remember a time when I was that small. *smiles* Although when I was, I was no doubt still a cow anyway. It’ll be interesting to get there. A birth chart that a friend did for me in exchange for a tarot reading said that I’d come into my own in my late twenties…I’m dreaming of that. I don’t expect people to understand, but…all my life, I’ve been staring at myself in the mirror, wondering what was wrong with me, why I wasn’t the same, why I was odd and different. I’ve come to appreciate being different…but I still wonder what’s wrong with me, why I don’t look like the others. It’s painful. *shrugs* I know every one has their issues. Mine are just physical ones. What are those girls doing that I can’t understand? How did they get so tiny? How can they eat what they do, and still stay small? Maybe when I get down there, I’ll see. I will do it. Even if I have to work at it all my life, I’ll do it. post comment

[08 Oct 2003|10:53am] [ mood | sad ] It’s hard to share the things I’m not proud of. It’s hard to open up, and show the world the pain I find in my imperfections. It’s easy to be imperfect, and proud of it. To grin and laugh and act happy and buoyant and go on as if I think I’m beautiful and fun and entertaining is easy, but to put the façade aside, and let people see the sadness, and fear and the worry, obsession, the paranoia and the broken center of myself is so hard. I hide it from myself, try to, anyway. *smiles* I don’t succeed too often, other than to put it aside and ignore it. I’m good at ignoring, and pretending to ignore. It’s hard, and frightening, and it makes me feel so very vulnerable to stand there and admit that I am afraid of myself, and afraid of my mind and my thoughts. But some times I can. And that's when I worry the most. post comment

[05 Oct 2003|09:33pm] [ mood | drained ] There are some things you want to talk so much about, but you can't bring yourself to say them. I need an ear, some one to help me spill out the poison in my mind, but I can't imagine bothering some one with what goes on in my head. It's nothing they should have to deal with, and it's not right for me to want to bring it up. At the least, it's selfish of me, and the worst, it's cruel. I know they can't do anything to change anything at all, and I just want to use them to try to get some semblance of relief from myself. It's almost ironic, that just when I was doing better than ever, this comes along and bites me. I hate being torn and factioned, I can never win this way, the victor is always overshadowed by the looser, and I never get peace inside my head. My hands won't stop shaking. But at least I'm not pulling out my hair, any more. *shakes head* I feel like I'm headed toward this cliff, and I'm about to drop off down into the depths of whatever awaits. *sighs* I need to not be me for a while. Maybe...I should find a few books, and hermit myself, just retreat and see what happens. ...*smiles* As if I'd ever do that. *shrugs* Oh well, I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning, when sleep makes me forget some of the day's thoughts, and I can pretend tomorrow that every thing is okay. I'm getting good at pretending that, it seems. post comment

[26 Sep 2003|01:45pm] [ mood | drained ] *smiles* That salad sounded absolutely divine. I was so tempted, I actually planned to go get it. But then, I remembered that the Bistro closes at 2, and that I didn't intend to leave until 2:30. Instead of taking the five minutes it would require to go get the salad, and come back, I felt relieved that it closed before I would leave, so that I'd have no chance to eat it. It's rather odd. I noticed yesterday that I was deriding myself for being a pig, and all I'd eaten was breakfast, and a dinner. I don't remember when my focus shifted that far. Eating has started to become a guilty pleasure. *thoughtful* I feel...elated when I go to eat, like I'm sneaking something that I shouldn't have, and am detirmined to enjoy it while it lasts. But at the same time...there's grim satisfaction in withholding meals. I feel like a failure if I eat before 2 in the afternoon, and I feel disgusted with myself if I eat after that one time. Some times...I sit down to eat, and I realize I cant eat it, that it would ruin everything if I did. Sometimes, I put it away, throw it away, or dispose of it however is possible. Other times...I sit and look at it for a long time, before telling myself to savor it, because it's all coming back up as soon as I'm done. Of course, I've had to lay off of that the past few days. *wry smile* My throat is raw, and swollen, and raspy. Perhaps drinking more water afterwards would help keep that at bay, but...I've always had a weak throat, and I get larengitis and throat infections often, so I doubt it would help much. I need to excercise more. *tilts head* Then...maybe I could keep having one meal in a day. But I'm so tired all the time, it's hard just to get my studying done, let alone physical activity. Dance is wonderful, for an hour twice a week, I can move and have fun...despite how baddly I feel. *thoughtful* I fell down the stairs on Wednesday. Luckily, I was going up the stairs, so I suppose I should say I fell up them? I don't remember. I quickly blushed and picked myself up, blaming it on the fact that I'd just washed my feet and couldn't do a thing with them, but...I was so dizzy just then, I'm suprised I was able to finish the rest of them without falling down again. It happens not so often, and usually I'm sitting down, and suddenly fatigued, but sometimes, usually while going up or down the endless stairs (-.-; Blessing and a curse, that. Lots of extra excercise, but every class I have to go up one or two, and then back down again), I wonder if I'll be able to make it. My legs feel so weak, and my bag so heavy...but then I'm way out of shape, and more excercise would help me. *purses lips* I think...I'll be able to manage until I get to work. Once there...I don't know. *shakes head* I hope I can learn to resist. I have to, or I'll never succeed. *amused* But then again, maybe I have succeeded, in a way. On the weekends, I freak out because I'm pigging out, but when I take it rationally, I realize that I'm only eating normally. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. And I'm scared of doing that. *bites lip thoughtfully* I dunno. We'll ee. The weekends are scary, I already mentioned that several times in the past. It's just practice, really. How much better is my control this week? 3 comments|post comment

[19 Sep 2003|01:25pm] [ mood | sleepy ] My entries have changed. This started out as a journal just for me, so I could try to understand myself. I knew that I’d have others reading it when I began, but until there actually were others reading it, I was able to fully explore the thoughts I was experiencing. Now, I’ve tried to become vague, and brief, having half thoughts and quotes that mean something to me, and hopefully not enough to any one else for it to make perfect sense. Why do I do this? Because I feel bad when those I care about worry for me, or because I don’t want them to know exactly how far I’ve sunk, or just because I don’t want to face it myself. That completely defeats the idea of having this, I think. I’m giving a small little warning now, so you are not caught unawares by anything. From now on, I’m going to try to return to the original purpose of this journal. There’s nothing bad about any one else, so don’t ponder over that, I’m just…I’m not going to sugar coat, or blur what I am thinking so that it’s a little more acceptable. I’m going back to the truth. Luckily, you both seem okay with it. This is entirely voluntary my doves, I won’t take roll. If you don’t read what’s here, that’s okay with me, and if you don’t know what to say, or never comment on my thoughts, it’s okay too. *kiss* That said, let us move to what prompted this desire in the first place. I’m scared of the weekend. I’m scared of having all of that time with nothing to keep me occupied while I’m surrounded by food products. During the week I can be good, I can control myself. I get up in the morning, and am either too tired, or without the time to stop and eat breakfast. When I am on the bus or car ride to school, I won’t eat because I hate to eat in front of other people. Then, I have five hours of classes and after the last one I drag myself up the flights of stairs to the computer bays, and work on home work until it’s time to go home. Once there, I am sometimes tired enough to pass on dinner when it’s offered; not often, but I have been able to. However, on the weekends there’s none of that. I’m alone with enough time on my hands at work that my resolve weakens, and the temptation gets the better of me. Sunday is the worst, for some reason. I can’t seem to make it go away with the thought that it is the last day before the week begins again and that I only need to last a few more hours and everything would be okay again. I work tonight. I think…I’ll be okay. Saturday I might be able to survive, if I don’t have to work extra hours again. I’m scared of Sunday. I don’t want to fall and binge, because I don’t want to have to follow through with it. *shakes head* I’m worrying myself, but I’m also finding it…potentially fascinating as I watch myself take steps toward my goal. If I succeed, and if I in turn recover, it will be interesting, I think, to look back on these entries and watch the progression. post comment

[17 Sep 2003|09:42am] [ mood | odd ] *tilts head* It works. Well, they work, perhaps is better to say. A slightly...detached feeling, a little dizzy, might be because of the caffiene interaction. Feeling slow, however, not energized. *frowns slightly* Could also be because of my intake the past two days, or lack there of. I am happy with the progress, and instead of feeling guilty or depressed, I'm...detatched. Yeah. That fits rather well. *nods* Just pleased, and okay with everything. The scale was happy this morning, and I wasn't effected. That was nice. post comment

[16 Sep 2003|09:44pm] [ mood | sleepy ] Dear dear diary, I wanna share my secrets, 'cause you're the only one, That I know who'll keep them... --Pink. post comment

[13 Sep 2003|10:05pm] [ mood | nervous ] In 9th grade, I remember going to some odd class thing or another, I think it was to watch a few speeches from another class. The room we were in was obviously a Health room; there were posters that students had made depicting the outcome of various drug abuse on people, and listing all the most common side effects beside gruesome photos. Speeches are boring, so I spent most of the class periods looking at the posters, reading them and staring at the pictures. I remember pausing on a few of them, ones that listed side effects like weight gain, of loss of hair, and wondering why any one in their right mind would take those drugs. I was firm in my knowledge then that I’d never do any sort of drug…but I remember two of them that made me pause, where the side effects were rapid and extreme weight loss. I remember thinking that the only reason I’d ever do anything as stupid as take drugs was for that one reason, and it wasn’t worth it at all. …I fell at work today. I’ve been so good all week, and then I had to go and binge. Prowling around the little mini store we have, frustrated with the lack of anything that was OK to stuff into my fucking mouth to shut up my demanding stomach, I found something I’d never really noticed any attention to before. These ugly little gray and red capsules. The list of warnings go on and on, from nausea to headache to dizziness, to loss of appetite and rapid heart beat. Little energy caplets with bold faced, dire warnings taking up almost the entirety of the back side of their little package, giving voice to every precaution known to any over the counter drug etcetera, making it very clear that they were not to be abused, and that they were an energy aid, not to be misused however one might think to do so. Nausea, loss of appetite. God help me, I bought them. And now they’re sitting in my backpack as I chew on my thumbnail, casting them wary glances. I’m going to try them, I know I’m going to try them. I hope they work perfectly without any side effects and just give me a pleasant boost when I’m dragging. More than that, I hope they give me exactly what I want. Nausea, sleeplessness, nervousness, loss of appetite, rapid heart beat, and the energy to keep me moving no matter how bad I feel. If I weren’t so hopeful, I don’t think I’d be able to stomach myself. Oooh, look, they’re already making my nauseas, and I haven’t even opened the package. *amused* post comment

[11 Sep 2003|01:38pm] ...To be relieved or not? Too many people, it's too easy to over hear, can't do it now. Later...is another matter. Perhaps in the night, when others are asleep, to have my meal then when I can take care of it properly. My stomach is revolting. I may succeed afterall. post comment

[11 Sep 2003|01:31pm] [ mood | nauseated ] Fuck. I just couldn't do it. *shakes head* post comment

[11 Sep 2003|11:59am] [ mood | bland ] Is it sharing, or is it begging for attention? Spilling what’s inside and allowing others to see the gore you keep locked with in, is it sharing, an offer of trust? Or is it a cry for help, for some one to worry for you and show they care for you by becoming distressed? By holding back you risk their anger; by sharing you risk their disgust. By holding back, you feel small and alone and over whelmed; by sharing, you feel weak and vulnerable and guilty for risking bothering them. Some times, I scream silently, wanting to talk about the disgusting parts of me, to try to exorcise them as I do with my emotions as they become overwhelming. I don’t have the courage, and so I keep it silent. When I do have that rare instance of courage, of clarity to realize what I am doing and thinking is wrong, I can only allude to it hesitantly, quick to take it back and move on and allow the moment to pass. I know right now, that what I’ve managed to do this past week is bad. I know that I should not feel elated, and that the problems I am having should be clear indication that what I am doing is bad. However, the matter boils down to one thing: how much do I value one form of progress against another? I will keep it up, for a little while longer, taunt myself and life, and see what happens. *sighs* It’s just toast and an egg. There is no reason to torment my self about it. I will be good the rest of the day, and I will walk in the rain for a few miles, and it will be fine. There is no need to start worrying. Stop being ridiculous. You’ve been good since Sunday, this isn’t going to destroy you. This is pathetic. *shakes head* I am going to forget it, and be happy instead. post comment

[10 Sep 2003|09:35pm] [ mood | distressed ] I want every one out. My brother's friends need to leave, mom and dad and my grandmother and her pastor need to leave, go away, get out of my sight and my hearing and give me silence. I can't...I can't cry with people to hear. I can't hide and and I can't cry and I just want them to go away. So sad, everything I managed felled in one succinct blow. It's just a book, there's no reason to react this strongly to it, but... It's so sad. How could any one write that? It's hiddeous, there's too much grief, too much sorrow and misunderstanding, it's painful. God, it's too easy to equate to life. Make it go away. Give me happiness now, and laughter and joy. Make the bad go away, so I can pretend it doesn't exist. 1 comment|post comment

[08 Sep 2003|08:10pm] [ mood | drained ] I don’t know why, but I am always stunned by how sharply one’s mood can fall. It’s like a knife to the heart that stabs icy constriction through your entire chest, and you can almost…*feel* the good mood drain out of you and into that knife. Emotions are said to be mental, but they feel far more physical than people give them credit. They’re such tweaky things, really. So individual and twisted, convoluted. Something that makes you happy one time, can make you furious the next, and something you’ve always loved can turn your stomach the next time you experience it. *tilts head* I love the feeling of happiness. It can be so varied. At times, it makes you feel as if you were standing in the sunshine on a spring day, basking the golden warmth of the sun infusing you as the clouds skitter by through the sky, never touching your light. Other times, you feel so light and buoyant it’s as if you fly with every step you take, and if you just took a leap, you’d soar up into the air above all of the troubles and weights of life. And then there’s the depression that’s like a shot gun blast screaming through the air and piercing your soul with its malignancy, slamming you from your happy reverie and plunging you into the dirt so harshly that shock sets in, giving you a second of cloudy, stunned nothingness before the pain clutches at you and chains you into its consuming embrace. I think the fall is the worst part. Not being depressed. It’s the fall from the sky and into the hard earth that shatters you. post comment

[01 Sep 2003|03:51pm] [ mood | Insecure ] *sighs* I’m lonely. *shakes head* 1 comment|post comment

[25 Aug 2003|01:01pm] [ mood | satisfied ] *purrs* 160 today. post comment

[20 Aug 2003|02:31pm] [ mood | afraid ] *hides* I don’t want to hear that. Why’d you have to say that? Without her I’d be…I don’t know what I’d be, but it wouldn’t be good. I need her. To be with her. She makes it possible for me to try to be more, instead of caving into myself. Please don’t tell me I have to leave her? I wouldn’t know what to do, I’d be lost, I can’t…I can’t imagine it. *shakes head* It wouldn’t be any different if I wasn’t with her. I’d be in the library instead, reading books, always reading this and that and devouring the shelves one by one. Here…I create my own books, I have her love and companionship, if she doesn’t have a problem with it, why should any one else? I can’t…don’t pretend to be concerned with me, you don’t understand. Don’t talk about it any more. I won’t listen. post comment

[14 Aug 2003|05:09pm] [ mood | anxious ] ...I'm waiting for the axe to fall. *sighs* I hope it's quick, and doesn't hurt too much. *nuzzles* I don't want to cry. post comment

[14 Aug 2003|07:33am] [ mood | depressed ] …New rock bottom, I suppose. Isn’t it nice, that we can always go lower? Humans are truly remarkable creatures to be able to continually strive for new levels. I’m looking at pictures of women with extreme anorexia. You know, bag of skin and bones, 80 – pounds, etcetera? And if actually found myself examining them, and pitying them, because even as low as they’ve gone, they’re still not thin. Their spines stick out an inch from their backs, you can see the tendons running behind their knees, you can see the gap between the fibula and tibia for goodness sake. And…they’re still not thin. They’re down to their last breath, starved to their very essence, and they still don’t have what they’ve done all this work for. *shakes head* I’m appalled. I have no clue how I could ever think that, and worse, continue to think it even after I’ve caught myself. And then, there’s that small little whisper that asks, what about me? If I can look at these girls and think that they still aren’t thin, what hope have I? post comment

navigation [ viewing | most recent entries ] [ go | earlier ]