yesterday i started to feel like crap about my body again.

yay.

logically, i know that there is nothing spectacularly terrible about the way i look. a little sickly, maybe, kinda short, some acne, but nothing too bad. i know that i'm not fat. i just. sometimes i feel so goddam worthless. i feel big and clumsy and ugly and i know that everybody feels that way at one point or another in their life and i know that i don't need to lose weight, but i feel like i should.

last summer, i stopped eating for a bit. i would go for as long as i could stand without food, and when i had to eat, i obsessed over calories. i would exercise until my inhaler wore off and i got an asthma attack, and i still wouldn't eat. i stopped dong that a few months back, and in hindsight, i'm glad i got out before i got in too deep, but sometimes i still feel like maybe i should start again. i don't want to, but they keep cheering me on.

they're not bad, per say, but if i have a negative thought, they latch onto it and start shooting it back at me 24/7.
fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat a mantra that they pound into my head until i can't think anything else.

i have friends that would yell at me if i tried to tell them this. they would say that i'm an idiot and that i'm not fucking fat so i should stop fucking saying it, and i know that i shouldn't feel bad about the way i look, but that's not gonna stop me. i don't try to be insecure, i just fucking am.

what a talent, huh?

You know what? I'm pissed and I'm scared and I'm worried and I feel like throwing up and I am fucking angry. And I'm tired of pretending that I'm not. I hate that I put on this facade of happiness and energy and excitement and I hate how whenever I try to make a place where I can stop putting on that mask, I just end up doing it there. It's just so easy to lie. Things like sadness and anger and hate and depression are hard and complicated, and pretending to be happy is simple, because nobody ever says "you are smiling and talking and you look like you are enjoying life, what's up with that?" If you look like you might be the slightest bit under the weather, you get a barrage of questions and people telling you that they care, that you would be missed, that try to convince you to be happy and are then angry when you can't manage to do that. So you pretend to be happy, and it's tiring, but you're always tired anyway and people leave you alone. Lying is simple and easy and I do it to you and I do it to my friends and I do it to my teachers and I do it to my therapist and I do it to my parents and I do it to strangers who ask me about my day. But right now, my mother is drunk and has been having crying fits every day for the past week and she scares me and my father is ridiculing everything I do that he doesn't like in the hopes that I will feel bad enough about myself that I won't do it anymore and I am angry and I am going to say it:

I DON'T LIKE LIFE.

And don't you dare try to comfort me. And I have thought a thousand times about killing myself and yes, I know I would be missed and I know that I am loved, but I wish I wasn't so that wouldn't be hanging over my head every single time I look at a knife or a gun or a bottle of pills or when the thought even crosses my mind because I have a Reason to Live.

And I fucking hate it.

If I kiss you in the garden, in the moonlight, will you pardon me and tiptoe through the tulips with meeeeeeeee

So I've decided to write a blog post like other blogs. That means no creepy writing about hallucinating or night or weird poetry. Wait. Oh shit. I write emo poems, don't I? Fuck. I never thought I would be that person. Fuck.

Oh well.

Anyway, the creepy psychopathic brain children, as I like to call them, are pretty calm tonight. Z is pouting because I won't play with him. Marcus is singing "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" (he does a mighty fine Tiny Tim impression). I'm not sure where Seven is. She's been kind of quiet all day.

I wanted to talk about a recent development in my life: I've started playing roller derby. And I feel so much better about myself. It's a lot of fun, and never something I thought I would enjoy, but I really do. I love roller skating, and bashing the shit out of other chicks is fantastic for relieving stress. The workout it gives me is doing amazing things to my body, and, possibly the strangest development, I know people now. I have people who don't care that sometimes I stare at things for a bit too long or have really messy habits or get distracted by butterflies, they just care that I'm me. They took the time to learn who I am, and they haven't backed away very slowly, so as not to upset me.

That's usually a good sign.

xoxo
Clara