I feel like I'm dying again. There is always a bridge that I have to cross over to get to that god forsaken place. Once I do, I'm trapped again. I depend so much on those around me to make me happy. Which of course, is complete bullshit. I am the only one who controls my emotions. To say that everything else is "responsible" for my misery is bullshit. I am responsible. I will always admit that. Even when put down, forced to do something I'd rather not, or looked down upon - I am the one who controls how I feel. I am the one who chooses to carry my burdens. I choose not to let them go.

Now once again I feel like all I have is this drawing feeling inside of me, just nudging me to return to my facade - the place that fools everyone. The place where I will purposely stop frowning, and only smile and laugh - when inside I'm dying. The place where I don't allow my eyebrows to arch downward, where I don't allow my lips to pout. This is the place where I'm able to convince myself that my suffering doesn't exist.

I am about ready to dive in. I just want to disappear, my body to vanish, quickly, efficiently. I've put on lbs. all over, covering my bones, covering my muscle, a thick seal around my body which exists for the sole purpose of keeping me alive. My body understands who I am - my body knows that I fall back into deep depression and suddenly go from eating like a person who could give a shit less about their diet, to someone so strict and rigid that nothing in the world could change me. Therefore, it prepares and stores for the times when I fall.

In essence, this body is all I am. It's all anyone can see. It is my image. It is what lies. It is what convinces the world that I am confident, happy, cheerful, and full of care and concern for others. It's all fake, and it will always remain fake. Hell, give me some fake tits. Some smartlipo in the lower abdomen. Fuck up what God gave me and turn me into Hollywood's new born child.

Right now I feel like a hollow shell. I feel alone. I sit here and type and watch the words appear on the computer screen. Pretty amazing. Huh? I hope and pray that I can only make him love me and look at me the way I want him to. Without going to some bangbros or some porn site for tools. I am so deeply sorry, but I can't help it. I do not have any fucking trust. I've been through this same fucking scenario before. I know that shit is so fucking easy to hide. I'm educated in behavioral psychology for fucks sake.

We all follow patterns. It is very rare that we change these patterns. If we are good liars, we tend to remain good liars. If we are good at keeping the truth from people (especially those we love), it tends to remain that way, correct? So if a person tends to keep the truth from those he/she loves and could easily get away with murder, what would be enough for that person to change? Avery negative consequence. Not just some teary eyed girlfriend sad about seeing some stupid fucking amateur porn. Behavioral Psych gave me a very grim view of humanity. However, the older I get, the further I've strayed from having any sort of spirituality or hope in humanity. I will always worry that I am not good, perfect, or beautiful enough. I don't know if I'll ever find hope within myself.

When I think about this god forsaken eating disorder that haunts me every single day, all I see is an empty casket waiting for me. The severity, the depths that I've reached before,

To every season ?

Been awhile since I sat down and allowed my mind to flow effortlessly. Just my mind and the click-click of the keys. Remember when I learned to type. Software program in 6th grade annoyed the hell outta me. Had to chase a little computerized fox and the only way to do it was to type fast enough. I got up to 160 wmp. Crazy little girl. Always had to have a new goal. Even if it was one as stupid as becoming world's fastest typing 11 year old.

Anyway. Right now I can't tell you (whom I assume is simply myself since this websites stats suck...and because I don't advertise my retarded mental state)...anyway, I apologize...as you can see I'm easily distracted. But, I cannot tell you who I am today. Truly. This eating disorder is beginning to eat at my soul. And I'm letting it. I feel so completely alone. Scared. Empty. I hate this place. I hate the quiet. I absolutely despise silence...wait did I just rephrase the previous sentence? Yes. I believe I did. Oh well. This is why I'm known as a complete scatter-brain. I try with all my might to keep my thoughts together when at work, school, bar, etc. But left to my own devices, the ramblings of my inner mind do not make much sense at all. I worry about everything. I worry about ending up alone. I worry about taking opportunity. I want to succeed yet I don't. I want to win but allow myself to fail. I want to be healthy but I stave myself.

Anyway, I have to go get some caffeine. I'm going to start writing again. Need this.

I can't sleep.
My heart hurts too bad to even think about closing my eyes.
Half the time I don't know what's going on.
Feel like the world is upside down and I'm holding on by a thread.

I am such a quote whore.

What we have once enjoyed we can never lose.
All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
--Helen Keller

Love is sometimes denied, sometimes lost, sometimes unrecognized, but in the end, always found with no regrets, forever valued and kept treasured.
--unknown

The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark
places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands
love is mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.
--J. R. R. Tolkien (Fellowship of the Ring)


It is so true...as love becomes entangled with grief, it begins to change into something so incredibly beautiful and painful at the same time...it almost forms its own entitity, something that I've lost power over (well...I never had any power over it). Because the pawns were thrown. Because of chance? Or luck? Or gravity? And what about timing?? Then I check out the good ol depressing book of Ecclesiastes...

Ecclesiastes:

For everything there is a season,
And a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to throw away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate,
A time for war, and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8


But why the answers Ecclesiastes?? I suppose life wouldn't be anything if we didn't experience love and pain! It wouldn't amount to shit. Everything is worthwhile - even if it sucks. In fact, the most worthwhile feelings or accomplishments...result from much suffering. For the first time in my life, I have the body I've always wanted. I can finally say that...and I've experienced far too much suffering for this result to ever morally ok it for someone else to do (with sanity). No one else would eat so little (under 400 calories) and workout so hard (2-3 a day, 6-7 days a week baby). But it's worth it for me. I appreciate suffering - I know what it can create.

And sometimes its worth it to suffer just to feel love. Love and pain go hand in hand. Truly. You cannot experience something so thought and mind consuming, something so passionate and wonderful without the other extreme...life throws cards at everyone. Sometimes people end up with more pain and love than others. Some with all pain and no love. Some with all love and little pain (I suppose those people consider themselves lucky?? Maybe?).

Well it's nearly 1AM. Gotta catch some zzzzs. Until next time...

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. ~J.K. Rowling

Pretty amazing how life can transform you into a completely different person than the person you were as a kid, or the person you were 5 years ago, or even 2 months ago. I remember when I could barely raise my hand in class I was so embarrassed. Or the thought of talking to a boy...oh my god. I wouldn't dare! Or the thought that I could be wanted?! Never. Though now I feel a bit of ego burn and I think I need to tone it down a notch or two.

I can't say I've ever been so angry, confident, confused, lost, happy, and sad all at the same time. Daily I feel with such great intensity and I absolutely love it. Perhaps it's just a manic stage, but I am letting go of so many fears. I just don't give a fuck what anyone thinks anymore. The fact that people watch me, look at me, compliment me, whatever - just makes me angry. But I let them think that they're making me happy. They're just being human and that's fine. I use this persona and I love using it. But it scares me that some people are beginning to recognize how incredibly angry I am inside. I don't think many people at work ever thought a little pretty polite chica would throw a mad punch like I do. And spend hours doing it. People realize that my energy has to be coming from somewhere, that it has to be fueled by something.

I think about a lot of things when I workout. I've always used it as an escape. It's really hard to do when you're sad. It's not a priority when you're happy. But it becomes an addiction when you're angry. Realizing that I've been angry for a fucking long time.

I'm so tired of being nice. Of giving myself, or at least as much as I can to others, and then end up being taken advantage of or used in some way. It has happened again and again throughout my entire life. Of course, it's my own fault. I allow it to happen because I can't stop caring. I remember letting the horde of middle school girls cut in front of me in the fucking lunch line so that every single one of those little bitches could get their fucking chocolate milk before me. And guess what I got once I finally got to the milk section?? Fucking 2%. I'm so fucking sick of getting 2%. It tastes like fucking ass and I've put up with it for way too long. I can feel my skin growing thicker as I think about it. The more anger I feel, the more angry I get. (Wow intelligent statement Sara.) I'm not bothered by feeling angry. It's rather addicting and it's kicking my ass into some good fucking shape.

I wonder what it will take to get me to the point where I stop forgiving. Where I stop caring. Where I simply give up on people the moment they let me down. I'm extremely envious of those that can simply let go of people not worth their time. It's a trait that I doubt I'll ever acquire. If only I had an easier time letting go. Truth is - I don't. I don't let go. Of anything. I've held on to things that upset me as a fucking kid. I hold on to memories that are only in the past. I hold on to tons and tons of shit and carry it willingly. Why?????!!!!!!

And then I must end with a contradiction to my question. I like carrying shit. LoL. Maybe I enjoy drinking the fucking 2% milk because it tastes so nasty. Just like I love anger and pain. I need a sport that is full-out aggression upon the opposite sex. Where if I get hit in the fucking face or a jaw broken, ribs concaved, or cracked skull - I wouldn't care. Or vice versa. Maybe I'm kidding....? Or maybe I'd like the fucking attention?

3AM. I love early morning rants. Until next time.

Going to go box the hell out of a fucking bag.
For another hour today. (Oh baby, you gotta believe that 2 hour long sessions with a heart rate at 185 bpm is addicting.)
I can't fucking wait!
Yay.
Abs.
Of course.
And two fucking cans of chicken today. And like a nibble of a fucking pancake. Makes the body look even fucking better. I love pain. And I think it's worth it to put up with pain for certain reasons. Like your fucking image - because that's all that this retarded society can see. They can't see you. Nothing that is inside. They see only see how you portray yourself. What is my number one reason for feeling pain? I'll feel pain for those I love any day. I don't mind it. I love it. I want it. Give me the S & M baby. Because you cannot experience happiness without feeling pain. My memories of happiness are worth pain. And I'll repeat; I don't mind it, I love it, and I want it badly. I'd rather live with it than become numb.

I'll just look down.

I'll just look away.

My flaws speak loudly without a cover up.

At least I can pretend to be happy.

Maybe I'm a ghost?

Whatever right?

Working my ass off. Why? Anger issues?

You crack me up.

Hebrews 13:5
"Never will I leave you;
never will I forsake you."

I love to play with words. As if that wasn't already apparent. Hence. The word "love " (for examples) can be just about anything. And when we look out of the context of Neo-Western thought, we get into even deeper, more complex meanings.
Just a few examples,
"I really loved that meal." Just a basic, that was great ma.
"Hmmm. I loved that meal." Sarcastic undertones.
Or, "I love my dog. Isn't he great?" Love really doesn't mean that much right? I mean, if the dog dies, and you don't get over the grief soon - there is some sort of problem. But if a friend, family member, spouse, etc, passes, grief is expected and socially acceptable for quite some time. One of my mom's friends was obsessed with dachshunds. She owned at least eight at any given point in the year; but most were so obese that they ended up breaking their hind legs and needing a rigged wheel-chair like device for that allowed them to move around, maneuvering with their front legs. Due to severe stress on the lower back, most of these obese dogs would barely make it a year. Maybe 2, if they were lucky. Anyway, every time one would die, Ms. Lanto would hold a funeral. She always invited my mom and my down syndrome brother. Paul had no clue what was going on at these funerals and most of the time ended up laughing or saying something like, "pooor baby gogggy die." Despite the humor of it all, Ms. Lanto loved Paul's company. She needed friends to pay their "respects" to these retarded creatures that she loved so dearly. How the hell one comes to love such a ridiculous pet, only God knows.

I suppose the point to all of this is - what is the point of loving something that is completely replaceable? I mean, dachshunds could easily populate the planet with the proper conditions set in place. They'd all be the same. Maybe a few genetic abnormalities. A few albinos. A few mutants. Etc. But pretty much all the same.

Unfortunately, human beings are a bit too complex to be replaceable. We have far too many characteristics. Far too many personality traits, odd little behaviors, patterns, (and the not-so-patterns), and complex behavioral histories to be put on the level of dachshunds...well according to me...perhaps not Ms. Lanto. In fact, we are so complex, that we have attempted to define why we love.

There is evolutionary theory which states that we are attracted to those with characteristics we deem as attractive and thus "healthy" - leading to further reproduction and increasing the chances of good genes being passed on to the next generation.

Then there is social exchange theory which states that people's feelings toward one another is dependent on his/her perception of rewards and costs, the kind of relationships he/she deserves, and their likelihood for having a healthier relationship with someone else. Social reinforcers, more commonly known as "rewards" make it worthwhile to stay involved in the relationship.

The traditional biological view sees 2 major driving factors in love; sexual attraction and attachment.

Psychology does not attempt to explain why love exists as much as it attempts to define love; defining love as a combo of companionate love and passionate love.

And finally there are hundreds upon thousands of religious, social, and scientific explanations for this one little word.

I love to play with words.

This word drives me crazy.

It means way too many things!

When I start to think about it, I start to feel like Edward Norton in Fight Club as he transitions into Tyler Durden. Chronic insomnia. Staying up late on caffeine. But of course instead of fight club, I have Sara's blog.

Hehehe.

Where I spend far too much time pondering, and writing out the random shit that exists and randomly appears within my brain.

So have I come to any conclusions yet about how I love to play with words? Did I mention that I love it? Or do I love it?

Some words such as la, la meaning the, drive me crazy. Because it is a word that has too many meanings! You can't just say, "I love you." to one person, then to another, and it somehow means the same thing?! No. But our English language has only allowed for so much!

Well it's nearly 3AM. Sadly, I must be up in 3 1/2 hours. I don't want to sleep. I just would like more caffeine. Sometimes I wish there was a 24 hour fitness in this god forsaken town because I would hit it up right now. And see though I'd like that, it probably wouldn't be beneficial to my health or to sanctity of mind to those who care about me. Although, they wouldn't have to know about it I guess.

So. That's my next goal I guess. Right? A 24-hour fitness in Kzoo. Dear God. Sara. Rose. What has come into your head?

Yes, that's right. You are the lucky winner and I am the one who is going to be psychoanalyzing you! Call and step up today, and let a real psychologist help you!!

That will be my motto. I can see the headlines right now. :) Ah. Well. The eyes are tired. The body is tired. But the mind is still awake and refuses to ss ttttttttt oooop ttypingn=.dd

Ok...suppose it's time.

Edit: I couldn't help but return to this to note - the main reason to writing this blog was to simply state the the word love is grossly overused. Couples say it in the goddamn morning, afternoon, and night. It almost makes me want to hurl. They say those little words are so important to say on a daily basis in a marriage. Whatever. People use words to hurt. Sometimes people use words to confuse. Words are simply in place to get a reaction of some sort. What really matters is the action the comes with the words. So I love reactions. But I love action, that is completely separate from my wanting a reaction, more so. Ha. Aren't I clever? See showing someone you love them is much harder than saying it. So easy to say those words. Much much harder to show it. And of course, it gets even harder to show it over time. After 2 years. 6. 8. 10. 20. 50. What happens at 50 years?! But should we really have to work that hard to show love? Yes? No? And what if I feel no love? What if I love nothing or no one? Sometimes I fear that that is the case. That I don't feel anything! But of course, that is completely untrue and it is just my angry bi-polar side taking over my personality at this very late hour in the evening and yes it is time to go to bed but I just wanted to edit in those last few words because I really felt the compulsion to do so at this late hour in the evening did I say that already? I think I did ok.