2003-11-03 - 9:52 p.m.
I feel sick. Nausea has been haunting me for the past 24hrs, possibly because I try to convince it to go away by eating copious amounts of chocolate.
Strangely, the packet of caramel tim-tams I just ate hasn't helped yet.
Abusive relationship with food: part billion. It all stems back to my childhood; I had parents who loved me but for the major chunk of it they just weren't there. I didn't get at the time that they were working because they loved me and wanted to give me the best they could, really, I get it now obviously.
But when I look back, my childhood was me, books, and food. Right now my life consists of uni and food. Okay, mainly food.
I need to take up smoking or something.
And stop being a stupid-suckedy-suck-suck-head.
I have goals... wheeeeee...
The other night I dreamed a lesbian tried to convince me to become a lesbian and since I was sick of guys I agreed and became one, but then all the lesbians turned unlesbian and I was the only one.
I think my subconscious is telling I'm going to get fat and die alone. I swear I'm 2/3rds of the way there already.
I miss anorexia, bring back the angry self-hate. There's still self-hate, it's just less energetic.
I'm so repetitive, aren't I. I'm a boring old repetitive fat cow.
If I got down on all fours in a paddock with some other cows and started mooing you wouldn't be able to tell the difference between us.
I have these day dreams lately that are more like nightmares, something happens to my mother, something I can't stop, with the recurring scenario that she won't remember the number for emergency services or just won't remember how to use the phone.
And they're so intense that when I jump back into reality there are tears on my face and I can't even remember the point where I started to cry because I was so wrapped up in it all.
I've been having them for a while now, but they've been getting more frequent lately. On the bright side, I haven't hyperventilated lately. Yay for breathing, yay yay.
Just stuck inside the gloom...
I lack substance. Maybe I'm being postmodern. But I don't even have style.
I'm feeling little. And like jelly. All wobbly and shakey and I don't know what else.
I just want to go to sleep and wake up when everything is over. Sick of it always being the middle.
I don't know what's wrong with me, except that I do know, I'm wrong with me. I needs a break from me. Me wants to talk to I about maybe seeing other people.
On to the crying game section of my soca essay. heteronormativity blah postmodern blah gender blah blah.
Waiting for the point where something means something.
Strangely, the packet of caramel tim-tams I just ate hasn't helped yet.
Abusive relationship with food: part billion. It all stems back to my childhood; I had parents who loved me but for the major chunk of it they just weren't there. I didn't get at the time that they were working because they loved me and wanted to give me the best they could, really, I get it now obviously.
But when I look back, my childhood was me, books, and food. Right now my life consists of uni and food. Okay, mainly food.
I need to take up smoking or something.
And stop being a stupid-suckedy-suck-suck-head.
I have goals... wheeeeee...
The other night I dreamed a lesbian tried to convince me to become a lesbian and since I was sick of guys I agreed and became one, but then all the lesbians turned unlesbian and I was the only one.
I think my subconscious is telling I'm going to get fat and die alone. I swear I'm 2/3rds of the way there already.
I miss anorexia, bring back the angry self-hate. There's still self-hate, it's just less energetic.
I'm so repetitive, aren't I. I'm a boring old repetitive fat cow.
If I got down on all fours in a paddock with some other cows and started mooing you wouldn't be able to tell the difference between us.
I have these day dreams lately that are more like nightmares, something happens to my mother, something I can't stop, with the recurring scenario that she won't remember the number for emergency services or just won't remember how to use the phone.
And they're so intense that when I jump back into reality there are tears on my face and I can't even remember the point where I started to cry because I was so wrapped up in it all.
I've been having them for a while now, but they've been getting more frequent lately. On the bright side, I haven't hyperventilated lately. Yay for breathing, yay yay.
Just stuck inside the gloom...
I lack substance. Maybe I'm being postmodern. But I don't even have style.
I'm feeling little. And like jelly. All wobbly and shakey and I don't know what else.
I just want to go to sleep and wake up when everything is over. Sick of it always being the middle.
I don't know what's wrong with me, except that I do know, I'm wrong with me. I needs a break from me. Me wants to talk to I about maybe seeing other people.
On to the crying game section of my soca essay. heteronormativity blah postmodern blah gender blah blah.
Waiting for the point where something means something.