you never noticed me

i love that song by saosin :)

but its also how i feel right now. i mean i don't put any effort into hiding how fucked up i am with food. i put effort into hiding other things, but i've never really tried to hide that. but nobody noticed. i gain/lose 20lbs every other month and nobody notices. on my petite frame, thats quite a lot of weight. shit, on anyone thats quite a bit. i even tell people that i'm weird with food etc. they know, they've been informed, and they've observed. but they still don't notice. and its not that they do and they just don't say anything. they for reals don't see. and its because they don't see me. they see the me they want to see, the one they expect to see. like when you read those messed up sentences that are spelled completely wrong, your mind arranges it they way it thinks its supposed to be so that you can understand it, even though thats not what it really is. 

i'm not gonna force them to notice me. i'm  just going to leave them alone with their sugar coated memories.

the genuine article, or not

i woke up good today. i didn't cry, i didn't pause to think about anything, i just did, and it felt good. but one second of inactivity, and it all bubbled to the surface and i wanted to destroy and emote and that was all there was....so i think that i can never be real. because to be real means to be something/someone that is unacceptable and will not last. i just have to keep all of me buried as long as i live, thats the only way i can live. and i really dislike that. dislike isn't even strong enough of a word. i would rather live no life than a fake life. but i can't not live. i don't break promises. so this is what i must do. i must be artificial. unreal. fake. anything genuine or honest must be suppressed.   ......and this is really what they want from me. if they heard me explain it in this way, they of course would deny it. but make no mistake, this is absolutely what they want. they would rather me have ended my life than have me live a real life. nobody likes the truth of me, thats not the me they love and asked to live. the illusion of me is what they want, and so they shall receive.

you know you're insane when...

this is another reason i know i'm insane: tonight after having a b-move romantic comedy marathon with myself instead of drugging myself into sleep, i decided hey, not only do i believe in love but i am in love. i know its bullshit and that i'm just delirious right now. i just sorta brainwashed myself with all of this sappy bullshit....i am not really in love, but for now i have this little melodramatic love story playing out in my head in where i have already found the one but tragically will never be with him because i'm not going to burden him with my insanity when he already has to take care of the rest of the world; he deserves someone who he can lean on. ugh i need to stop taking such bad care of myself and making myself even worse. ugh. thats why if my melodrama weren't a figment of my imagination i couldn't burden him with my love....because i can't even take care of myself. maybe i should give up trying and go live on the mountain with my mother........fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck....

oh my god, oh you think i'm in control

maybe i should just check myself into a psych ward....i mean i'm not harming myself too bad right now, but i don't know how much longer i can hold that off. smoking and drinking and unbalanced eating can only get me so much destructive satisfaction. but medical care is so expensive, and i'm already in a hole i don't know if i'll ever get out of, how the fuck am i supposed to pay for round the clock treatment, short term or otherwise?!   ......curse america and its lack of healthcare options.  i really am trying to keep my promise. but everywhere there is temptation.....you know how many ways there are to die? a lot. you know the sad thing? even though my short time as a psych patient sucked, i feel like going into treatment would be a sort of vacation. i wouldn't have to smile and pretend the world is full of sunshine and rainbows....i could be as dark as i am.....but of course only for a time, because i would have to 'get better' and 'see' the sunshine and rainbows....shit now that i'm really thinking about it, i'm sure going into treatment would be the same hell my life is right now. goddamn it. another fantasy smashed to bits by cold cold reality. i just want to put someone else in control, ya know? like it'd be so nice for once to stop trying to control myself (which is pretty much as hard as solving a derivative)....to stop fighting my body and just be with it, and have someone worry about what it does. or rather what i  do. so that settles it: i'm not checking into anywhere, and i'm not  dying....yet.

no picket fence for me

all the time i get told i'm too pessimistic, that i need to look at the bright side. but let me clue you in to what i really am....you know, i wasn't born at the bottom, but i quickly fell there when my parents divorced...which was when i was two or three. so you can almost say i was born there. and i've always been there. i mean yeah, some times have been better than others, but ultimately i am a shit out of luck sorry piece of shit. someone who if something happens, i'm fucked. if i get sick, well i'm fucked. something gets broken or stolen, i'm fucked. because sadly healthcare is an extraneous expense that i just don't have the budget for, as are repairs and replacements for possessions. even if those possessions are deemed 'essential' my most of modern society. and in america, they sell this dream that if you work hard you can achieve anything you want. but i'm not fucking buying. i know better...and its sad, because everyone around me (besides a few in my shoes) is telling me how wrong and cynical i'm being. but really, they're the fools who have bought into the bullshit propaganda. i don't want to go into a tirade of how the rich conspire to keep the poor down, but i know with every part of me that i will never get that american dream (aka lie). because its a fucking dream. dreams aren't real. so i'm poor and fucked, and unless some rich prince or some kind of miracle comes and rescues me from that situation, i will always be that way. i'm not a cynic. i'm not a pessimist. i can just see through all of the bullshit. so fuck off.

put the mask back on, don't take it off till everybody's gone

so i went on my trip, enjoyed life (for the most part) and now i'm back to reality. and i thought maybe seeing my best friend who i rarely see (like seeing her twice in the last two years is A LOT) and having a blast with her in vegas would give me some positive energy for a while. was i ever wrong. the minute i left all the happiness disappeared. so i thought maybe making myself be social and see my friends would help me recover some of that. god no. i spent the whole time screaming inside. because i hated them. i mean yeah, i can say i had fun. but i only had fun because i forced myself to. i put on that mask and i lived in it. sometimes, my mask feels seamless, and i can be that happy person in the moment. but not yesterday. i was so aware i was wearing it.....i HATED all of them. not only did i want to kill myself, i wanted to take them with me. okay, only for a little while. for the most part i just honestly couldn't get myself to care. there was nothing there. those people didn't matter to me. all i wanted to do was get away from them....so you know me, in the spirit of punishing myself, i made myself stay.  you know, usually when i stop caring about the people i love, i start to worry because i know thats a really bad thing. but i'm not worried at all....and maybe thats a sign that its even worse than its been before. i don't know. all i know is, inside nothing matters and i'm okay with that. unfortunately that doesn't mean i'm actually going to quit life. i'm still going to get up every day and go to work and attempt [and possibly succeed] doing homework and do all of the necessary things to get to the next day. because thats what i do. whats expected. what people want from me. i hardly ever do what i want. but i really don't know how much longer i can feel like a zombie and still look like little miss sunshine.

this letters written itself inside-out again

i'm there again. i was getting to the point where i didn't think about it every day, but i'm there again. death. it seems the only way out. i look at everything and think, 'how could that kill me'. i write and re-write suicide notes in my head. i just feel like if someone were to come up to me and point a gun in my face, i wouldn't be scared, i would rejoice. i would be happy, because it would finally be the end. and i know, objectively speaking, that all of this is unhealthy and i should seek help blah blah blah. but i really don't want to. i don't think there's anything that anyone can help with. there is no hope for me. i mean, what can somebody really do? they can't get me medication, and even if they could, they could only get me medication to stabilize my moods. there are no medications that have worked to stop my migraines. and its not like they're going to erase all of my debt or take care of any of my other problems. the only help anyone can really offer is emotional support, and thats not gonna get me through the next fifty years, or how ever long i have left. i'll just wake up tomorrow, and wish i didn't (again), walk to work while fantasizing about jumping in front of cars, work while wishing i could somehow get a fatal injury, and then walk home and repeat. isn't life beautiful?