I know that the sun will eventually shine- it has to or what the hell am I living for? see there's the brief interuption of the sane self but now it's gone again. I wish she would come back and stay. She's so optomistic and loving and isn't afraid to try again and isn't afraid that love hurts. I wish she would be me for the most part. (who likes the gody-two shoes optomistic girl, right?) There needs to be a little cyniscm a little sarcasm- but whenever I let that in, she stays longer than I would like her to. I think that the only one who can exist in the end is her- the insane one- at least for me because my mind is weak. There are broken holes and tattered edges that used to lead to things I knew. I used to be happy about 7 years ago, I was 9. I was happy, but ever since my grandfather was dying I was never the same. It got worse, of course, once he died when I was 10 and I didn't forgive God for a long time. I was in a roller coaster state of depression for three years. One day I'd ve happy and laughing until I could cry for no reason and the next I'd be silent and resigned. When I got to be 13, the depression periods lasted longer, weeks at a time, I started to abuse myself by not eating enough and exercising for over 2 hours every dya. I was a fanatic and you could see my ribs through my skin. No one noticed.
No one noticed that I'd gotten thin and that bothered me. It made me more determined to be a size nothing and a half. I was 5' 4" 110 lbs with a medium build that makes me look anorexic. When I hurt my knee it broke my spirit/determination whatever you want to call it, I was done. I went up to 150 in less than two years. Now I am a self-pitying body dismorphic freak. And no one sees it. No one noticed and no one cared or if they did they did a real good job of showing it. I think I forced myself to be sick three weeks ago so that I couldn't eat anything bacause I was so nauseous. But that didn't help me much.
I've tried to remedy my insanity, by telling myself that I'm normal and that it'll all be okay, and my bodydismorphia by running XC (which helped 20 lbs but I gained 8 back so now I weigh 138) but my mind is still weak and my body is still ill and I'm still depressed.
There's some things that I'm trying to say, but I can't really say them- can't really even admit them to myself yet... I feel almost guilty for feeling angry, for feeling dejected because I don't want to be angry at someone I love. And I don't want to be wrong about her, either. I had hoped my first impression was right, but now I don't want to explore the possibility of that being the case because if I am wrong then maybe I'll never be right and then what the hell is that point of trying to understand my selves and the world that created them- what's the point of trying to let myself love someone or be loved by anyone?
Who knows, maybe I'm just fucking paranoid, but what if it's true. What if there is no point? Well I can't explore that right now, it's not healthy.
