"Each limb A ton...
Then my hundredweight head
And I sink through the carpet
I am sunk So low..."
It's been going on for a week or more and shows no sign of abating. I feel like a moth that wants to crawl back into its cocoon in the hope that when it emerges again it will make the grade for butterfly status... I kinda assume that I'm not the only one who gets this? Or maybe I am, I never heard anyone else bitch about it.
Ever got tired of being stuck in your body? Of possessing that stare and those mannerisms, that stupid laugh and that foolish smile? I don't really know how to convey the enormity of what I mean. It's not a whistful 'oh if only I could be an inch taller / size smaller' sort of thing. It is being utterly sick of the shape you are. Hating those pointless, graceless little movements you make. Loathing the sound of your own voice to the point when you want to scream until it breaks. Wanting to take a knife to yourself and pare flesh from bone just to fucking get rid of it. It is wanting to change your body to such an extent that it would take a couple of million dollars worth of cosmetic surgery, style gurus, fashion designers, movement choreographers and personal trainers to even get close.
What the hell are you meant to do when you feel like that? When looking in a mirror becomes an impossibility if you want to function? If anyone has any suggestions I'd love to hear them. In the past I've cut my hair or dyed it another colour, bought new clothes if I could afford it or a new piece of jewellery. I've wandered around for a few days in wigs or outlandish makeup or gone back to that old favourite of hiding, giving up and making a further mess of my wrists. All of those 'solutions' I have found to be equally valid, and all equally useless. Because it doesn't matter if I wear that new skirt or not, nor if my hair is purple or my wrist bandaged; because when I look in the mirror I will be harshly reminded that the girl I want to see is not staring back at me.
If I read any of those self help books that whitter pointlessly about loving yourself enough I'm sure they would tell me to repeat mantra's to the mirror so I could adore who I am. *laughs* Gods, the whole self-help thing is so unfathomably weird. Consider this metaphor: you hate tomatoes - they make you feel ill. Someone feeds you tomatoes everyday and forces you to say before consuming the damned things, 'tomatoes are the apples of the heart and their taste is sweet'. Sure, eventually you'd get used to them until you could eat them fine without throwing up. But you'd be enduring them, not loving them.
I know that a modicum of ambition is meant to be good for the soul, but why do I have to be so far removed from who I want to be? I suppose it doesn't matter. Give it another week and this mood should pass as my brain ignores it in self defense, filing it away as deep and dark as it can. Pity it's never deep or dark enough.
"What's the matter with you
You wear your Monday morning face
I know
You think I'm a waste of your time
Hello
I'm no-one you'd want to meet..."
And I sink through the carpet
I am sunk So low..."
It's been going on for a week or more and shows no sign of abating. I feel like a moth that wants to crawl back into its cocoon in the hope that when it emerges again it will make the grade for butterfly status... I kinda assume that I'm not the only one who gets this? Or maybe I am, I never heard anyone else bitch about it.
Ever got tired of being stuck in your body? Of possessing that stare and those mannerisms, that stupid laugh and that foolish smile? I don't really know how to convey the enormity of what I mean. It's not a whistful 'oh if only I could be an inch taller / size smaller' sort of thing. It is being utterly sick of the shape you are. Hating those pointless, graceless little movements you make. Loathing the sound of your own voice to the point when you want to scream until it breaks. Wanting to take a knife to yourself and pare flesh from bone just to fucking get rid of it. It is wanting to change your body to such an extent that it would take a couple of million dollars worth of cosmetic surgery, style gurus, fashion designers, movement choreographers and personal trainers to even get close.
What the hell are you meant to do when you feel like that? When looking in a mirror becomes an impossibility if you want to function? If anyone has any suggestions I'd love to hear them. In the past I've cut my hair or dyed it another colour, bought new clothes if I could afford it or a new piece of jewellery. I've wandered around for a few days in wigs or outlandish makeup or gone back to that old favourite of hiding, giving up and making a further mess of my wrists. All of those 'solutions' I have found to be equally valid, and all equally useless. Because it doesn't matter if I wear that new skirt or not, nor if my hair is purple or my wrist bandaged; because when I look in the mirror I will be harshly reminded that the girl I want to see is not staring back at me.
If I read any of those self help books that whitter pointlessly about loving yourself enough I'm sure they would tell me to repeat mantra's to the mirror so I could adore who I am. *laughs* Gods, the whole self-help thing is so unfathomably weird. Consider this metaphor: you hate tomatoes - they make you feel ill. Someone feeds you tomatoes everyday and forces you to say before consuming the damned things, 'tomatoes are the apples of the heart and their taste is sweet'. Sure, eventually you'd get used to them until you could eat them fine without throwing up. But you'd be enduring them, not loving them.
I know that a modicum of ambition is meant to be good for the soul, but why do I have to be so far removed from who I want to be? I suppose it doesn't matter. Give it another week and this mood should pass as my brain ignores it in self defense, filing it away as deep and dark as it can. Pity it's never deep or dark enough.
"What's the matter with you
You wear your Monday morning face
I know
You think I'm a waste of your time
Hello
I'm no-one you'd want to meet..."