i have a problem. that problem is self esteem. and confidence. and know what i do and dont deserve and making choices that reflect that in a positive way.
Whenever i find myself
Scared of death again,
I smoke a cigarette,
And step a little bit closer
Towards that inevitable end.
Scared to let myself think about him too much because i know if i do im probably not going to be able to stop. Scared because i think deep down i really do love him but i just can’t figure out what kind of love. Platonic? Romantic? Some odd mix of both pieces and parts of each but not all?
I can see us being affectionate. And we already are intimate emotionally (not at all physically), and I can’t see us being intimate sexually. But i see myself loving him. And i can see myself creating some kind of a life with him? I can see us thogether. I described him as my brother before, knowing deep down it was just a blanket to cover what i was actuay feeling at the time. But the more i share with him and the more he gives me what i need when everything in my head tells me he won’t be able to….
It’s getting harder to ignore. Some days i DO feel physically attracted to him. But not every day. I don’t know.
I want to kiss him and try it. See how he would feel. I’d like to try him on physically, see if our bodies could fit as well as our minds. If ohr connection is purely on an electrical current basis from the wavelengths put off from our brains or if it’s one felt on every plane of existence.
Why does art fail to encompass this aspect of relationships and people? Why is my only model for this situation one where i realize on the day of his wedding that I’ve been in love with him all along and i crash the wedding and we live happily ever after? Why is that the only scenario where a woman and a man can have such a close, intimate emotional relationship? Why can’t someone make me a step by step model for how to navigate the more complex situations, like this one?
I feel like i love him.
I can’t decide how many forms of love there are or if there’s only one.
I want to try him on though. I want to know what he feels like. I want to know what we would feel like. How we would fit and how our skin might feel or look together. If our bodies could move as gracefully together so easily as our minds already do.
My curiosity is starting to get the best of me.
I hate sunday. I hate that i have nothing scheduled to do only things i should be doing. I hate eating. I hate not eating. I hate school and homework. I hate how i see myself as a person; needy, insecure, dumb…
I feel like i can do neuroscience, but i also feel like i could fall flat on my face too easily.
I want a chicken quesadilla. I want chocolate cake. But i like myself empty. Void.
I want to be a blackhole. Eat up anything and everything within a five mile radius but so that whatever enters ceases to exist. Put in emotion and it crumbles to nothing. Food comes in and equates to nothing.
I just remember when i had my cards read, and i got two archetypes; the emperor and the high priestess; two serious opposites when it comes to emotions and nothing describes me better.
might be triggering if you’ve suffered an eating disorder. i’m trying to figure out what i like about them because that was something that struck me when my therapist asked why i liked it; i wasn’t really able to describe it well. so here’s another attempt at scratching the surface:
I don’t know where I should start. I haven’t journaled in a while.
So maybe I should say hello? Act like this is my first entry, start over.
drink some juice; as it hits your empty stomach you feel like there’s no room for even the liquid to slide through, it’s shrunk down to such a small size. then make a single slice of toast, but don’t eat it until you’ve had a full 12 ounces of water.
the stomach growls, remembering that it wants food, but instead you tell yourself you’re just thirsty. “Just give it three minutes, it’ll be gone soon.” and sure enough the minutes pass along with the uncomfortable churning.
home from school. you let yourself eat a little snack. a handful of chips maybe, or a few pieces of turkey. so long as you don’t forget to knock back those 12 ounces of water beforehand.
dinnertime. you get the smallest bowl from the cabinet. “oh, i’m not that hungry right now, but i’ll have a little” the words slip out and the small fork full of food slowly replaces it, followed by a gulp from another 12 ounce glass of water.
time for bed, but lying there you can’t help but acknowledge the hole in your middle, the clamminess of your hands from low blood sugar. “i just need some more water” and you go again to fill the empty space with 12 more ounces of cold liquid.