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?

a fairytale that isn't coming true

i want to be anyone but me. not because i think that everyone else has it so much easier than me. i know that a lot of people have it worse than me. but they have different problems. different lives. different bodies. and you know, that would be nice. to have different problems. i feel like my life is the song that never ends. it’s the same hell over and over and over and over and, you get the idea. the thing i would like most is a different body. that would be loveliest change. not because of looks. on good days i find my looks quite pleasing. like a doll, all smooth skin, big eyes, and a tiny mouth. it’s the insides that i mind. the bipolar disorder, the chronic migraines, and all the other lovelies. the constantly being in pain and out of control, yet having to appear neither in order to survive in this fucked up society and i’m suddenly craving a [veggie] burger…god i need drugs see? so,being me isn’t exactly the bees knees or whatever.  and i know, based on current medical data, and my own studies and experience, that its going to be like this my entire life and the only thing that will change that is medication. so i either need to be drugged up 24/7, or out of my mind ………its actually a bit of a toss up. its not like these drugs take me on a fun trip. they just help make me more boring and functional. that sounds super exciting…gag me. so many people try and point out to me all of the lovely things that i have in this life, the things that should make me want to hold onto it desperately. like people who love me. aww that’s sweet, but love doesn’t pay the bills. love doesn’t go out and work for me when i’m too mental to leave the house. what else do they say…ah yes, that it will get better. yeah, and someday my prince will come. life is not a disney movie. sometimes there are happy endings, but mostly there are ordinary or even awful endings.  so yeah, right now i don’t want to be me. would you?

gummy gummy gummy bear

today me and my sister/roomie went to the store, and she was grocery shopping and i was just picking up a few essentials like shaving cream. but we got to the candy aisle, and she was all like 'hey lets treat ourselves and get some candy!' and i don't want her to think that i'm not eating, and i don't want to encourage her ana behaviors (she has an ed) so i said sure and we bought a 3lb bag of gummy bears (it was a steal). so that we wouldn't eat it all at once, we divided the gummies into small portions in ziplock bags. and i took one of the bags to 'eat' while i went downstairs and did my homework. and while i was online doing my coursework i looked up the nutrition info etc and saw that hey, maybe i could try to eat a few because it wouldn't be so bad.[i know i'm still on my fast, but my stomach is growling like mad now no matter how much water i drink and people are starting to notice so i though maybe this would help that]  i put one in my mouth and started to chew and it was like the absolute hardest thing in the world to eat it, and i could not do it. i had to spit it out. one gummy bear. and i love sugar. i love candy. so i'm kind of scared. i never thought it would become so difficult to eat one thing. but i said whatever it takes, and i meant it.

hump day

so even though i've quite enjoyed this fast, i'm glad that i'm gonna start eating soon. because i tried to go for a jog this morning, and after half a block my body became all stiff and it felt like it was gonna give out on me then and there. and i love exercising. so its gonna be nice to have a little more energy to do so. i really wanted to jog or something because i want to do everything i can to keep my metabolism up, cause its slowing down. i only lost .2lbs yesterday. .2lbs for fucks sake. that makes me .6lbs away from my goal. so i have through friday to get it up enough to lose that measly .6lbs. it feels a little ridiculous. 

i will make this happen.

and everyone wants to feed me

i feel soooo great. and i think its because i'm finally cycling out of my depression into hypomania or mania. so even though i've been living on water, i have soo much energy and i fucking love it. if i feel like this every day, finishing out this fast is gonna be a breeze. i'm just worried about coming off of it. because the last day is friday, and then i was going to slowly add food, but i have a bbq saturday, and i can't not eat because they are making sure to have veggie burgers just for me. and then sunday one of my coworkers is specially making veggie stuffed peppers for me, so i have to eat then. and i don't wanna get off my fast and just start stuffing my face, so i'll have to tread very lightly i think....