When I look back at every "relationship," I've been in all I can think of are the bad times.
I remember fighting every day...
I remember being a complete bitch.
I hated myself more than I hated him.
I felt restricted... possessed... and obligated.
I guess I could sit here and slander every relationship I've ever had with someone, but that's not really what is on my mind right now. I've always fought to be single because it's so less complicated. You don't have anyone else to worry about but yourself... but what happens when you can't help but to think about someone else, regardless of being "with them." I mean, can I really fight this so much longer?
It's quite obvious who I'm talking about... but in case you're out of the loop... I'll go ahead and explain.
Jen (best friend) tried to set me and james up like... 3 or 4.... is still don't know... years ago. I was in one of those I-don't-want-a-relationship stages of my life. Nothing ever came of it and he moved to fucking PA. We started talking a lot in the past 3 months and the first weekend of this month I went to visit him... it was great. I feel so content when I'm around him. We planned for him to come see me on my birthday... but my birthday is on September 17th and I've already seen him twice since then... he's even planning on coming this weekend too. One time he came down and once we met in the middle... isn't that adorable? We talk all the time... pretty much all day through texts... and fall asleep on the phone most nights. I'm just so freaking happy.. I don't want to lose this... and that is why I'm so scared.
Showing posts with label past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label past. Show all posts
5.1.06
Thinking back
I don't know why but I started to think of this random mannerism I h ad when I was 12, and I felt like posting it. Just to make me sound a bit more psycho... :)
It was a punishment of sorts, although I didn't have to do anything to deserve it. I just punished myself more if needed.
I have this desk chair in my room. I would be "doing my homework" in it and throw a pencil on the floor so that if my mom walked in I would tell her I was getting my pencil. What I was really doing is bending over the chair so that the edge of it would dig into my stomache. I would see how long I could stand putting all my weight into the sharp edge of the chair. I would j ust hang there..... blood rushing to my head. I still don't really understand why I did it. Maybe it was some inward way of showing how much I hated my body, or maybe I was even more psycho way back when than I am now, but I do know that I did it. I did it every day. Sometimes, i would wake up in the middle of the night and want to do it. I would be at school trying to push the desktop into my stomache w/o people noticing just to try and have that same feeling. Maybe it made me feel smaller. Maybe I just wanted to be reassured that there wasn't anything extra there. I wanted to feel my bones rubbing against the plastic.
Now, the reason I would be punishing myself is another story.
I would take my lunch to school every day (we had to pack lunches b/c the cafeteria just served ice cream and milk.), and my mom always packed certain things in it. My sandwich which I ate on occasion, a bag of chips which I normally gave a way to friends, yogurt/pudding/fruit which I would ball up in my napkin and throw away, and some sort of sweet. Now t he sweet was put back into my lunch box.
Every morning my mom forced me to drink Carnation Instant Breakfast. Not b/c she was a mean mom who wouldn't let me have anything else...... but b/c I refused to eat anything. During lunchtime, the sandwich was normally eaten, a lot of times my sister would come check on me to see if I had eaten it. When I got home from school I would go and take the sweet into my room and put it in my closent. I would do this for a few weeks and they w ould accumulate until I had a bad day. A bad day b/c I had a bad grade to be signed or something stupid like that. I wouldn't k now how to tell my parents and I would hide a way in my room right after getting home. I would close the door, lock it, put something in front of it, and then crawl into my very tiny closent and sit in the dark, quickly eating every l ittle debbie cake in there.
I can't believe how vivid my memory is about this. I can't remember half of what happened yesterday, but I remember feeling the urgency to shovel food into myself. As if, eating all those sweets that a normal kid would of already eaten, would make me, in fact, normal. And normal kids knew how to deal w/ their parents, right? Normal kids didn't wake u p in the middle of the night to undress and weigh themselves. Normal kids didn't punish themselves, but that's exactly what I did. After finishing the last one, I would make myself lay over that chair and stare at t he pencil until dinnertime.
Dinnertime is when I would tell my parents. Dinnertime I would tell them..... and I would cry. I would cry b/c they were telling me my punishment. I would cry hoping they would forget about the food on my plate. They hardly ever forgot.
I was always the last one to leave the table. Always sitting there fighting off eating any more green beans. I would wait until no one is the room and I would put the food back into the serving dishes. I w ould go tell my mom I had finished, and sometimes she w ould come and check the trash can. I just thought I was so clever. I had perfected the art.
That chair sits in my room still today, and I haven't lain over in probably 6 or 7 years. I hadn't even thought about what I used to do till today. I was trying analyze why, but I think it's just something I did. No explanation. I didn't need one way back then, so I guess I don't now either.
It was a punishment of sorts, although I didn't have to do anything to deserve it. I just punished myself more if needed.
I have this desk chair in my room. I would be "doing my homework" in it and throw a pencil on the floor so that if my mom walked in I would tell her I was getting my pencil. What I was really doing is bending over the chair so that the edge of it would dig into my stomache. I would see how long I could stand putting all my weight into the sharp edge of the chair. I would j ust hang there..... blood rushing to my head. I still don't really understand why I did it. Maybe it was some inward way of showing how much I hated my body, or maybe I was even more psycho way back when than I am now, but I do know that I did it. I did it every day. Sometimes, i would wake up in the middle of the night and want to do it. I would be at school trying to push the desktop into my stomache w/o people noticing just to try and have that same feeling. Maybe it made me feel smaller. Maybe I just wanted to be reassured that there wasn't anything extra there. I wanted to feel my bones rubbing against the plastic.
Now, the reason I would be punishing myself is another story.
I would take my lunch to school every day (we had to pack lunches b/c the cafeteria just served ice cream and milk.), and my mom always packed certain things in it. My sandwich which I ate on occasion, a bag of chips which I normally gave a way to friends, yogurt/pudding/fruit which I would ball up in my napkin and throw away, and some sort of sweet. Now t he sweet was put back into my lunch box.
Every morning my mom forced me to drink Carnation Instant Breakfast. Not b/c she was a mean mom who wouldn't let me have anything else...... but b/c I refused to eat anything. During lunchtime, the sandwich was normally eaten, a lot of times my sister would come check on me to see if I had eaten it. When I got home from school I would go and take the sweet into my room and put it in my closent. I would do this for a few weeks and they w ould accumulate until I had a bad day. A bad day b/c I had a bad grade to be signed or something stupid like that. I wouldn't k now how to tell my parents and I would hide a way in my room right after getting home. I would close the door, lock it, put something in front of it, and then crawl into my very tiny closent and sit in the dark, quickly eating every l ittle debbie cake in there.
I can't believe how vivid my memory is about this. I can't remember half of what happened yesterday, but I remember feeling the urgency to shovel food into myself. As if, eating all those sweets that a normal kid would of already eaten, would make me, in fact, normal. And normal kids knew how to deal w/ their parents, right? Normal kids didn't wake u p in the middle of the night to undress and weigh themselves. Normal kids didn't punish themselves, but that's exactly what I did. After finishing the last one, I would make myself lay over that chair and stare at t he pencil until dinnertime.
Dinnertime is when I would tell my parents. Dinnertime I would tell them..... and I would cry. I would cry b/c they were telling me my punishment. I would cry hoping they would forget about the food on my plate. They hardly ever forgot.
I was always the last one to leave the table. Always sitting there fighting off eating any more green beans. I would wait until no one is the room and I would put the food back into the serving dishes. I w ould go tell my mom I had finished, and sometimes she w ould come and check the trash can. I just thought I was so clever. I had perfected the art.
That chair sits in my room still today, and I haven't lain over in probably 6 or 7 years. I hadn't even thought about what I used to do till today. I was trying analyze why, but I think it's just something I did. No explanation. I didn't need one way back then, so I guess I don't now either.
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