Call me what I am
sad to the core,
lost in a world
where everyone else is equally
as desperate as I am
I’m a fcuking mess
and hiding it takes
a damn lot of skill
I pretend to be in a decent state when the reality is that
behind closed doors I shatter and crumble into a small ball of vulnerabilities.
And alone as I may be
I know that nobody may be trusted
and alone I remain,
smiling at passerby giving hope that would never lead as far as a relationship.
Call me what I am,
call me what we all are;
Walking dolls stuffed
with confusion pretending
to know how to survive the blessed days
we didn’t ask for
I know I binge when I’m emotionally in an unstable place. Food has always been my comfort. I should turn to people for comfort though and not fattening foods.
I don’t like smoking to suppress my appetite, purely because it makes me feel smelly and dirty and I’ve honestly been opposed to smokers my whole life.
I’ve been binging less and my binges aren’t as severe and over the top as before, but I’m still binging now and then. I motivate myself to stop binging by rewarding myself with a visit and treat at a cute coffee shop every binge-free week and $100 after a month of not binging. Hopefully it’s enough motivation. I know that is not going to be enough, I know I need actual emotional support.
I binge mostly at night, when my willpower is at it’s weakest, as I’ve mentioned before. I tried distracting myself from the binge by having a very small glass of my favourite Merlot at night. It works somewhat alright, but I still feel the need to binge. I must say tho that I think my lack of hobbies and things to do at night or after work is a big factor in why I binge aswell.
In school it was easier to not think of food as I had plenty of work to constantly keep me busy. Now though, I waitress, get home, have nothing to do after eating, so I eat more, and more (and more) and go to sleep. I need to find myself a hobby.
It’s something I’ve been contemplating for a very long time as I feel my life is in a boring rut. Any suggestions would be appreciated. I’m also interested in trying interesting jobs I’d never think of doing. Purely for interest sake and learning new things.
I’m really not in a happy place with life, and it’s in my hands to get me out of this deppressing dark hole, as nobody can help me if I’m not even willing to let them know that help is needed.
I do hate myself, viciously. For overeating and having no self control. I get home from a long day at work and my immediate stress reliever is to stuff my fucking face with food. Not even particularly food I like. Just food. I’m startin to think I should just become a cocksucker for a living. Since stuffing things in my mouth seems to come much too naturally. I’m really uncertain of what it is thats driving me to this point where I just want to eat and eat and eat. Before, I was so skilled at denying myself food. And now look at me. I feel the extra flesh jiggling on my body as I walk. It sickens me. I’m going to try smoking to stop me from binging when I get home from a night shift. Not the best idea sure, but I won’t be gaining weight. I’m also going to restart my yoga routine and I definitely need to establish a set routine where I have specified meal times. I have realized how not having a set routine has driven me to eating more food more often. My body is confused I suppose.
I know it’s not the only factor leading to these binges tho. I need to figure my shit out.
Fuck myself for no longer having any control. I had so much control before that the first oopportunity I got to screw up, I went all out. Now I’ve gone from nearly anorexic to a chick who’s gained about 20 pounds in 2 months. I’m uncomfortable, despite being at a weight others are more comfortable with. I feel my physical presence is too big for the minimalist personality I’m about.
I struggle mostly at night, when I’m comfortable in bed and the day’s bullshit comes back to me. I’m at my weakest in terms of willpower. The day is long, the work hard, the pay shitty and the boredom real as fuck.
And while all these lovely thoughts bubble up, my stomach seems to entertwine with my brain and heart and next thing I know I’m back in bed returning with a mound of guilt and snacks from the kitchen.
And no words could possibly stop me when I’m on my mission. I commit to my sins, knowing the harm it will do for it is already painted on my bones.
I don’t know exactly what brought this about. But I’m going to find out. Word for frustrated word, I WILL gain back control.
then crawl back
like theres no gravel
stuck to your knees
and telling sweet stories
like I was never
at your inconsiderate
Soak up my lack of enthusiasm
for the conversations
you try to patch together
to rub away the dusty past;
Where I wass your bitch
and you had a golden stick up your ass
If I were to dream with my hand cupped over your warm, gurgling belly, with my breath in your neck and your back tucked into my chest.
I’d dream of the shadows that rest beneath your collar bones and the way your eyelashes reach out and upward to your untamed eyebrows. I’d dream of the bruises staining your knees and the freckles growing on your nose, golden specks of rust.
Blessed I’d be if my fingers were to tangle in your ashy brown curls.
If I could entrance myself in your glass eyes.
If your bloated lips were to touch my glossy eyelids as the sun found its way into our bedding.
My uncertainty melting into the day as your body stirs and blood rushes to paint your pale cheeks a lively red.
I’d sleep through a thousand nightmares to bring just this one dream to life. But I’m grown enough to understand. I’m devoid of doubt and filled with regret for the sad reality that exists.
Where you’re everything that exists and all I exist for, you’re what I never could have and I’m someone you’ve never seen before.
How the eyes narrow
How the hearts fail to be
How the waves swallow shores
How the world does scare me
How the shadows dance all day
How the words fly free
How the pills fix all flaws
How the people are afraid to see
How the smoke suffocates all that’s pure
How short the money will always be
How the children plead
For a world they’ll never see
And I’d say I’m not sure
I’d say it wasnt me
My hands are washed and pure
This toy wasn’t broken by me