I slipped up a little. I think maybe if I write it here where someone can see it, I'll stop.Wishful thinking.
This may be triggering I guess, so if you're in a vulnerable place, stop reading now. And take care!
The night I wrote that last post that started with some useless, boring rant and finished on an oddly hopeful note, I stripped, cut, and smeared blood all over my body. Like some psycho in a really bad, cliché, kind-of-insulting movie. Ehhhhh. Can't explain it. Just really weird. It got everywhere, there was so much, it took me so long to clean. And I felt really peaceful. I don't even want to punish myself or hurt myself or die... It just feels good. I keep telling myself I can indulge, every once in a while, like it's a freaking shopping spree or something. And I feel terrible because I'm just doing this like whatever, whereas some people struggle with the need to hurt themselves and it's got to be the worst kind of suffering, and what I do seems really insensitive. So, sorry. I don't want to minimize what people with actual problems are going through. I'm a jerk.
And then I purged a couple of times the following weeks, stopped for a while. I was so proud! But yesterday, I was having a normal food day and I saw a super ordinary girl jogging past my house and out of the blue I'm thinking "weeelp, guess it's time to forcefully empty the contents of my stomach now. yep, seems like the natural thing to do". And I purged, and brushed my teeth and cleaned and ten minutes later I was tutoring like nothing happened. So yeah, I'm disappointed. Let's try again, shall we? Surely I can do a little better than cutting once and purging five times in twenty days. Seriously. I was supposed to turn over a new leaf and everything.
So, enough superlatives for one post. Yeah, my writing has gotten more casual but that's better than the pretentious attempts at artsy writing I was doing before right? Yes. Yes it is.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
this is important to me
So here I am. Again. Back here. I tried real life, I truly did. Real life blows.
I'm sick. My doctor doesn't know what it is yet. I've done loads of tests but everything comes back negative. Now we're thinking it's Celiac disease in spite of the negative result (apparently false negatives are very common) combined with something else. I lose almost everything I eat. I'm not absorbing nutrients properly. I'm on special diet and I'm losing weight without even trying, too much weight.
Of course I'm obscenely pleased about that.
But it's also painful. And embarrassing. It's getting harder to keep it a secret from people around me. It's taking over my life. I'm not dying. It's not a tragedy. It's just disgusting and unpleasant.
So, back to my fictional identity. Jillian. She's only sick inside her head. (The real me? Probably not.) I always come back to Jillian. She's good for me... Right?
...
It doesn't feel right anymore. Being here. It doesn't feel like me. Real life is hard, it's harsh, it's full of things big and small that I cannot control. But I think I'm starting to grow. As a real person. I haven't done that in a while.
I'm not saying goodbye. I'm just lost. I don't feel like I fit in anywhere, even in the places I made up for myseld. But maybe that's a good thing, maybe I'm evolving. It could be time I stopped running away. I mean... I complain A LOT, but life is sort of amazing, even when you're fat and your stomach hurts and you don't understand people. I've been learning a lot about myself and it's good. Sometimes I feel invincible, sometimes I feel insignificant, and both those feelings are incredible. Because we're so BIG and everything else is so BIG too. But enough cheap philosophy.
I'm going to keep trying at life. I think I can do it. It's odd that it took the stupidest, most trivial problem, a BODILY FUNCTION problem of all things, and lord knows I can't stand those, to make me shake things up a little. This is a very weird post, but I'm feeling very weird. A good weird. I mean, terrible for writing, but good in general. Yep. Very bad for writing.
I have no idea if I'll post again. I could be back in two days, or in two years. I dunno if I'll want to talk about starving and hurting and crazy thoughts anymore. Maybe I'll try to be the real me. I'm sure you've caught glimpses of her: a bit goofy, overly passionate about the silliest things, loves you all to bits.
What I definitely WILL do is start commenting again. I have been reading, mind you. I'm a terrible, selfish person for not trying to help but.. I needed to disconnect. I'm very sorry. However, I do love hearing about you girls, because you're all sort of amazing, to say the least, so if you'd like me to follow you, I know I'm nothing special but I'd love to get to know you! Leave me a comment with your web address and you should hear from me soon.
My name is Maxime. I'm 19 years old, 5 foot 6 and I have all ten fingers and thumbs. I want to be a cancer doctor. I like robots, superheroes, Edgar Allan Poe, asparagus, pillows and learning absolutely anything. Being me isn't always easy, because I struggle with strange, sometimes obsessive thoughts that take up a lot of time and energy: however, it's also amazing because I get to do what I love, and I have a lot of qualities to make up for my shortcomings. I have friends online who are intelligent and beautiful and spectacular. It's pretty awesome.
(END OF ABSURDLY CHEESY PARAGRAPH AND STRANGE, SPANNING-FROM-NEGATIVE TO-SUPER-OPTIMISTIC POST. MUCH LOVE!)
I'm sick. My doctor doesn't know what it is yet. I've done loads of tests but everything comes back negative. Now we're thinking it's Celiac disease in spite of the negative result (apparently false negatives are very common) combined with something else. I lose almost everything I eat. I'm not absorbing nutrients properly. I'm on special diet and I'm losing weight without even trying, too much weight.
Of course I'm obscenely pleased about that.
But it's also painful. And embarrassing. It's getting harder to keep it a secret from people around me. It's taking over my life. I'm not dying. It's not a tragedy. It's just disgusting and unpleasant.
So, back to my fictional identity. Jillian. She's only sick inside her head. (The real me? Probably not.) I always come back to Jillian. She's good for me... Right?
...
It doesn't feel right anymore. Being here. It doesn't feel like me. Real life is hard, it's harsh, it's full of things big and small that I cannot control. But I think I'm starting to grow. As a real person. I haven't done that in a while.
I'm not saying goodbye. I'm just lost. I don't feel like I fit in anywhere, even in the places I made up for myseld. But maybe that's a good thing, maybe I'm evolving. It could be time I stopped running away. I mean... I complain A LOT, but life is sort of amazing, even when you're fat and your stomach hurts and you don't understand people. I've been learning a lot about myself and it's good. Sometimes I feel invincible, sometimes I feel insignificant, and both those feelings are incredible. Because we're so BIG and everything else is so BIG too. But enough cheap philosophy.
I'm going to keep trying at life. I think I can do it. It's odd that it took the stupidest, most trivial problem, a BODILY FUNCTION problem of all things, and lord knows I can't stand those, to make me shake things up a little. This is a very weird post, but I'm feeling very weird. A good weird. I mean, terrible for writing, but good in general. Yep. Very bad for writing.
I have no idea if I'll post again. I could be back in two days, or in two years. I dunno if I'll want to talk about starving and hurting and crazy thoughts anymore. Maybe I'll try to be the real me. I'm sure you've caught glimpses of her: a bit goofy, overly passionate about the silliest things, loves you all to bits.
What I definitely WILL do is start commenting again. I have been reading, mind you. I'm a terrible, selfish person for not trying to help but.. I needed to disconnect. I'm very sorry. However, I do love hearing about you girls, because you're all sort of amazing, to say the least, so if you'd like me to follow you, I know I'm nothing special but I'd love to get to know you! Leave me a comment with your web address and you should hear from me soon.
My name is Maxime. I'm 19 years old, 5 foot 6 and I have all ten fingers and thumbs. I want to be a cancer doctor. I like robots, superheroes, Edgar Allan Poe, asparagus, pillows and learning absolutely anything. Being me isn't always easy, because I struggle with strange, sometimes obsessive thoughts that take up a lot of time and energy: however, it's also amazing because I get to do what I love, and I have a lot of qualities to make up for my shortcomings. I have friends online who are intelligent and beautiful and spectacular. It's pretty awesome.
(END OF ABSURDLY CHEESY PARAGRAPH AND STRANGE, SPANNING-FROM-NEGATIVE TO-SUPER-OPTIMISTIC POST. MUCH LOVE!)
Friday, February 8, 2013
Cold
I haven't been around. I've been withdrawing from my lives, both fictional and real (not ever knowing which is which). Must be the cold winter winds corralling me into my nest, deeper into my nest, deeper into myself, screeching and howling and moaning away, blanketing my nest in a thick coat of snow, dulling my senses and everything with them. It's cozy in my nest where it's too easy to embrace the loneliness in exchange for warm colours, pages and pencils under my fingers, lulling me to sleep. And when I venture outdoors, windswept and all too awake, I'm alone with the dark shapes of houses and tall pine trees, unyielding to old man Boreas's icy breath and cloak. I'm cold.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Saturday, January 19, 2013
ready or not, here I come!
So I'm back. Everything still feels too bright and too loud, but here I am.
It's just so hard to come to term with things I don't understand. It feels like my brain is at war with my body, my heart, itself. And it's become hard not to take the easy way out, to shut everything down and let the numbness back in, or the hunger, or the other usual escape routes. It's like fighting to stay awake when you can barely keep your eyes open, when all you can think about is sweet slumber. But if I lose myself again, I'll be alone when I find my way back. I don't think anyone will give me yet another chance.
The longer I wait to do these things that someone my age should have done, the more difficult it becomes to catch up. Because everyone is already ahead. That scares me. I know you say it's fine, some people are slower, some people have different priorities, but the thing is more and more options truly are becoming unavailable. I would have wanted those things, probably, eventually. I always planned on getting better. I've gotten so much better already, but is it too late?
It's this new kind of loneliness, one that comes with adulthood maybe, where I need someone real and close that I can talk to with ease, or not talk to, really, someone who understands, patiently. Sounds kind of unreal, doesn't it? I think I already want enough impossible things, thank you. I don't need this.
Blogging is kind of silly, isn't it? Just talking about myself, into the void that is the Internet. I wonder how much it really helps. But I don't really want to stop.
I NEED TO STOP WANTING AND NEEDING THINGS NOW OK? OK. DO NOT QUESTION MY LOGIC PLEASE THANK YOU.
It's just so hard to come to term with things I don't understand. It feels like my brain is at war with my body, my heart, itself. And it's become hard not to take the easy way out, to shut everything down and let the numbness back in, or the hunger, or the other usual escape routes. It's like fighting to stay awake when you can barely keep your eyes open, when all you can think about is sweet slumber. But if I lose myself again, I'll be alone when I find my way back. I don't think anyone will give me yet another chance.
The longer I wait to do these things that someone my age should have done, the more difficult it becomes to catch up. Because everyone is already ahead. That scares me. I know you say it's fine, some people are slower, some people have different priorities, but the thing is more and more options truly are becoming unavailable. I would have wanted those things, probably, eventually. I always planned on getting better. I've gotten so much better already, but is it too late?
It's this new kind of loneliness, one that comes with adulthood maybe, where I need someone real and close that I can talk to with ease, or not talk to, really, someone who understands, patiently. Sounds kind of unreal, doesn't it? I think I already want enough impossible things, thank you. I don't need this.
Blogging is kind of silly, isn't it? Just talking about myself, into the void that is the Internet. I wonder how much it really helps. But I don't really want to stop.
I NEED TO STOP WANTING AND NEEDING THINGS NOW OK? OK. DO NOT QUESTION MY LOGIC PLEASE THANK YOU.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
i've never admitted this before, not really
In the light of the last week and an unnerving almost-experience, I've been researching the "asexual" label more thoroughly. As maybe a thing that I am and not a disorder or a problem. I'd already given it a lot of thought. I know I haven't gone much into detail about this. It's very personal and I hope I'm not making anyone uncomfortable.
I don't feel attracted to people. I think people are attractive, I have crushes on fictional characters, I could even fall in love with someone's personnality and maybe their appearance in the sense that it's theirs. But I don't feel attraction. I don't mind hugs and pecks on the cheek and cuddling with people I love and know very well if I'm the instigator. But last week a friend tried to do more and NOPE. Got home, panic panic panic, scalding water, brushed my teeth three times and I could still smell him on me and I couldn't sleep and I kept crying. I always sort of knew but this is just confirmation, no, proof. It could just be him and a huge coincidence that I haven't met the right person yet but I don't know. It's scary and hard to understand. This is the source of so much anxiety for me.
He totally got it, by the way. Didn't call me a tease or a freak. We're still friends. But I didn't really explain, just said I couldn't.
And now I'm panicking because if that's me I'll always be alone. Which, deep down, is not what I want at all. I just want someone to understand but who will want to deal with THAT, or not deal with it, really. I'm scared and there's no one I can talk to; I'm embarrassed to even write this here.
I can't explain this. I'm ashamed and frightened and I wish I was "normal". Whatever that is. So I guess I need someone to talk to. I feel in my heart that you will understand. You won't judge. And you have no idea how much that means to me right now. And if you have advice or if you've ever felt like this and you wouldn't mind talking about it... I'd really appreciate it.
-----
PANIC PANIC PANIC. I shouldn't have written about this now I'm panicking and I'm going to be sick and I just want to be normal please. I can't have this future given to me and now taken away. I can't have this horrible feeling that I really am broken and all it says everywhere is that I can't fix it and I just want to close my eyes and for everything to go away
-----
the vertigo is back. no no no no.
I don't feel attracted to people. I think people are attractive, I have crushes on fictional characters, I could even fall in love with someone's personnality and maybe their appearance in the sense that it's theirs. But I don't feel attraction. I don't mind hugs and pecks on the cheek and cuddling with people I love and know very well if I'm the instigator. But last week a friend tried to do more and NOPE. Got home, panic panic panic, scalding water, brushed my teeth three times and I could still smell him on me and I couldn't sleep and I kept crying. I always sort of knew but this is just confirmation, no, proof. It could just be him and a huge coincidence that I haven't met the right person yet but I don't know. It's scary and hard to understand. This is the source of so much anxiety for me.
He totally got it, by the way. Didn't call me a tease or a freak. We're still friends. But I didn't really explain, just said I couldn't.
And now I'm panicking because if that's me I'll always be alone. Which, deep down, is not what I want at all. I just want someone to understand but who will want to deal with THAT, or not deal with it, really. I'm scared and there's no one I can talk to; I'm embarrassed to even write this here.
I can't explain this. I'm ashamed and frightened and I wish I was "normal". Whatever that is. So I guess I need someone to talk to. I feel in my heart that you will understand. You won't judge. And you have no idea how much that means to me right now. And if you have advice or if you've ever felt like this and you wouldn't mind talking about it... I'd really appreciate it.
-----
PANIC PANIC PANIC. I shouldn't have written about this now I'm panicking and I'm going to be sick and I just want to be normal please. I can't have this future given to me and now taken away. I can't have this horrible feeling that I really am broken and all it says everywhere is that I can't fix it and I just want to close my eyes and for everything to go away
-----
the vertigo is back. no no no no.
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