right now

Right now I am at school. Right now I should be happy, because the sun is shining and there's a cool wind blowing through my hair, twisting it around my face. I should not be bothered by my reflection on the screen. But I am not happy. And it does bother me. School was like liberation to me, it was freedom to speak and think and learn, and now I am stuck in this mess, and I don't understand how I feel, or why I feel it, all I know is that it's wrong. It has never been easier just to give up living than it is right now, I am fighting a losing battle, because I am on both sides of it so no one can win...

I know somewhere in my brain that I am losing brain. I register it, just a fact, like so many others. But sometimes it creeps up on me, when I am startled by my reflection in a window or by the sudden heaviness and thickness of my arm. Everyone and everything seems so mundane and it makes me feel all alone in the world, which is why I come back crawling to you, as always, my fellow bloggers. I want to stop feeling again. I want to stop THIS feeling. School has driven away the anxiety, a little, and the pain, a little, but it has amplified the violence inside me and it has amplified this feeling that I am not meant to have. I am usually driven by this strange combination of thought, logic and instinct that is common among us teenagers but now none of those can help me. I am stuck, I am frozen in terror, I am freezing in ice. It is getting colder and colder and I want to be active and I want to be cold at the same time. I don't know if you get what I mean. I don't. I say things and I don't know what they mean or where they are from.

So, to counter this excess of self-deprecation and regrets and guilt, I write to you. I admire the foliage of our might Canadian trees, all vibrant greens and yellows. Soon the forest will be alight with the colors of fire and I will get lost in the woods time and time again. I will walk and walk and walk and think and admire and walk and panic because I don't know where I am and find my way back. eventually, covered in mud and leaves and needles and sap. That is my element, nature is my element. It is beautiful here.

Maybe if I focus on writing and reading and music and trees and wind I will forget about feelings and violence and hatred and love. Maybe if I fed on the smell of dirt and decomposing leaves, the pollen in the air and the words from my books instead of fat and hatred and pain, I would be a healthier person. But then again health is only a perception, it is subjective, like beauty. Can't I have my own standards of thin and beautiful and healthy and pure? Who are they to tell me they are right and I am wrong? Who are they to say they are sane, and I'm not quite insane, I'm too dull for that, but just unusual and peculiar. Enough to alienate but not to be interesting. Oh joy.

Why are so many opposed to thin? Why is it worst to be thin than to be fat? Why are the obese victims and the anorexic villains, and then the obese evil and the anorexic innocent, each in turn, however they like? There are so many misconceptions in the world and those who keep them alive know how to use them to their advantage. I think we are all victims somehow. The overly obese and thin allow the average person to feel better about themselves. The obese are irresponsible and helpless creatures, and we are vile, superficial beings who try to suck others into this fatal vortex. God forbid the average person should be condemned for anything at all.... Wow, I'm really just rambling here, and my English is terrible today, my apologies.

School is boring too. If you're going WAAAAAH?!?! impossible! then you are a nerd like me. Yay! But seriously, the people in my classes are morons. PLEASE all join me in my philosophy class! I honestly don't know how many more moronic answers I can take from these overgrown apes. You'd think I was exagerating but I'm NOT. It's so bad that I can't even exagerate! My imagination is litterally bouche-bée by the idiocy of my class-mates. Aaaah life is weird sometimes.

This is my resistance. I always say ours because it feels safer, but really, it is mine.