It's got a lot to do with having to finish what I start
At any second now I think it might all fall apart
Last week everything was wrong with me and now nothing is. What's the right answer when I end up with more questions? More and more vitamins and supplements and cognitive restructuring and lots and lots of doublethink.
Thin is Fat
Weak is Strong
Sick is Well
Because of course thin isn't good enough, thin may be thin but it's still too fat. I'm too weak to be okay with myself, to love myself. But that's what makes me strongest, what drives me to do what I do. I'm not truly well, not truly whole, not until I'm sick. Not until I'm falling over and passing out and my bones can't hold me together anymore. A woman on the bus picked her nose for a full 63 seconds. I counted. She talked on her phone the entire time. I saw everything. She wasn't discreet. Maybe she was proud of the treasure that she found. Completely unashamed or unaware? I'm the same though. Everyday I make people watch me. I walk around in too tight clothes showing too much. Too much pull, too much roll. Tug, stretch, tear. Tear like "tare" sounding. Not tear like "teer". Because BIG girls don't cry. Only the waifs can cry. It's disgusting on everyone else. Waifs can cry though, because I'm sure they're very sad from not eating for all of eternity. Starving to perfection must be tough. I wouldn't know. Because I'm fat that's why! Stop asking the questions you already know the answers to and do something about it. Stop eating. Or maybe get rid of what you did eat. Of course I already tried that. I shoved my fingers all the way down my throat. Just like another meal right? I shove all the food in the world down my throat every day. What's a few fingers? What's a hand? What's an arm? Should I swallow my whole arm and then the rest of me too? Disappearing into myself? Can I, am I brave enough? I pushed and pushed and nothing but hot air came out. I threw up all of my broken promises and empty lies , I regurgitated them all, but the food stayed inside of me.
Blogging won't be scheduled or specific. I am a nomad. "You'll always have a home here." She says it with such conviction, she believes its true. "This is my house, you do what I say or you get out." He says it louder. In the end it's really just about being heard right? So I'll be here when I can.