(no subject)
I read over all my old entries yesterday and I can describe the feeling it gave me. I mean, half the thoughts, quite honestly, I probably wouldn't have even recognized as my own. I'm not sure why. Perhaps i've matured more than I give myself credit for...I mean it's been a couple years, I at least HOPE i've matured.
Many things have changed, many things haven't. This summer changed quite a bit, in the social realm; I drank quite a bit, which I'm sure helped contribute to my newfound confidence. Sadly, however, this 'newfound confidence' also seems to be a very shortlived discovery; as always school seems to be slowly sucking any confidence I had out of me, along with my initiative and energy. I have some of the most deplorable study habits ever, which I'm sure contributes to the lack of energy, and I'm sure my habitual starving doesn't help that. But this time around it seems different somehow.
Usually I perk up somewhat during the day, or at least find my second wind at night, just in time to finish (and perfect!) my homework. This year? Doesn't seem to be so. I sit and stare at the easiest of tasks and it seems so difficult and out of reach. The tiniest of tasks seem mentally and physically draining. fj4ew. oh well.
I don't feel like expounding upon the social shifts of dynamics among my 'group,' or the drama that occured this summer, or the monster I've been made out to be my friends, so I'll move on to what seems to be the only constant in my life: self destruction. I chose not to say anorexia because...I don't know, i still deny that it's anorexia, If i have to categorize it for the sake of communities,etc, I'll say it, but for right now I still cannot admit it to myself. That sounds misleading, as if somewhere in the back of my mind I know it's anorexia...I still don't think so. It's starvation. Until I prove to myself that I can deny myself of essential nutrients and see it TRULY manifested in my appearance, I still maintain it's nothing more than starvation.
I think the mental consternation and preoccupation does not come with the starving, but with the fact that I have not yet reached a long term goal. Yes, I've dropped a dramatic amount of weight in short time periods, but I've always simply maintained that low weight, never getting under 100. I think I'll be at ease when I can actually confirm that, yes, in fact, I CAN reach that superhuman realm of denial. I...I...fantasize what it will be like. And here comes that cliche discourse of "feather-lightness" and "floating," but...I guess there is a truth to be found in cliche because why would it be cliche and commonplace if there wasnt truth to it? Well, nevertheless, I want that. I want numb, cold, bony fingers grasping my empty sides, I want it to hurt. everything. I want to lie in my bed and feel my hipbones poke into the feathery depth of my comforter. I want to be ethereal, light, and surreal. I want to feel that comforting and ever-expanding space between my clothes and myself; the cotton of my shirt to barely graze my stomach, to know that I'm too small for extra-small shirts, too small for size 0.
God I'm sorry. I know I sound ...I don't know.
I hate myself for having only one pathetic goal, I mean, how peculiar. My only goal in life (as of right now) is one of self-desctruction. That can't be good at 17.
And to think I'm worrying about this in the midst of the Hurricane. I should switch places with someone down there, I deserve it more than any of them. I'm a self centered whiny little girl who needs to grow up. Well, my thoughts are with any of you. I'm trying to set up a relief program at my school.
Many things have changed, many things haven't. This summer changed quite a bit, in the social realm; I drank quite a bit, which I'm sure helped contribute to my newfound confidence. Sadly, however, this 'newfound confidence' also seems to be a very shortlived discovery; as always school seems to be slowly sucking any confidence I had out of me, along with my initiative and energy. I have some of the most deplorable study habits ever, which I'm sure contributes to the lack of energy, and I'm sure my habitual starving doesn't help that. But this time around it seems different somehow.
Usually I perk up somewhat during the day, or at least find my second wind at night, just in time to finish (and perfect!) my homework. This year? Doesn't seem to be so. I sit and stare at the easiest of tasks and it seems so difficult and out of reach. The tiniest of tasks seem mentally and physically draining. fj4ew. oh well.
I don't feel like expounding upon the social shifts of dynamics among my 'group,' or the drama that occured this summer, or the monster I've been made out to be my friends, so I'll move on to what seems to be the only constant in my life: self destruction. I chose not to say anorexia because...I don't know, i still deny that it's anorexia, If i have to categorize it for the sake of communities,etc, I'll say it, but for right now I still cannot admit it to myself. That sounds misleading, as if somewhere in the back of my mind I know it's anorexia...I still don't think so. It's starvation. Until I prove to myself that I can deny myself of essential nutrients and see it TRULY manifested in my appearance, I still maintain it's nothing more than starvation.
I think the mental consternation and preoccupation does not come with the starving, but with the fact that I have not yet reached a long term goal. Yes, I've dropped a dramatic amount of weight in short time periods, but I've always simply maintained that low weight, never getting under 100. I think I'll be at ease when I can actually confirm that, yes, in fact, I CAN reach that superhuman realm of denial. I...I...fantasize what it will be like. And here comes that cliche discourse of "feather-lightness" and "floating," but...I guess there is a truth to be found in cliche because why would it be cliche and commonplace if there wasnt truth to it? Well, nevertheless, I want that. I want numb, cold, bony fingers grasping my empty sides, I want it to hurt. everything. I want to lie in my bed and feel my hipbones poke into the feathery depth of my comforter. I want to be ethereal, light, and surreal. I want to feel that comforting and ever-expanding space between my clothes and myself; the cotton of my shirt to barely graze my stomach, to know that I'm too small for extra-small shirts, too small for size 0.
God I'm sorry. I know I sound ...I don't know.
I hate myself for having only one pathetic goal, I mean, how peculiar. My only goal in life (as of right now) is one of self-desctruction. That can't be good at 17.
And to think I'm worrying about this in the midst of the Hurricane. I should switch places with someone down there, I deserve it more than any of them. I'm a self centered whiny little girl who needs to grow up. Well, my thoughts are with any of you. I'm trying to set up a relief program at my school.