Tuesday, April 28, 2009

who likes short shorts?


i have a certain pair of black high-waist shorts.
whenever i'm skinny enough to fit into them without struggling,
i feel good about myself.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

i'm still here.


sorry for not posting for what seems like forever. back in school after our spring break one of my classmates, m, told us that his father just killed himself. the day before, m's mother had walked into a room to find her husband hanging by his neck, lifeless, limp. i never knew m's father, but i found myself enormously upset when i heard this. i cried all day at school and couldn't focus on anything. learning about german grammar, the french revolution and oscar wilde all seemed so pointless. death has always been a very hard thing for me to deal with. i kind of can't. i don't know why, but it's always been like that. i went to the funeral later with some of my other classmates. it was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, the sermon was fine and nice things were said about peter, that was his name. i was sad all along, of course, but i thought i was doing quite well considering i really can't deal with funerals. but i completely cracked at the end of the church ceremony where m, his little brother, his mother and some of the closest family carried the coffin down the aisle, out of the church. it was too horrible. but it was a quite beautiful ceremony all in all and m is doing quite well considering the
circumstances. he is very strong and he's been coming to school every day since the funeral. i bet i couldn't. i'd be curled up in a ball on the floor, screaming, crying and losing my mind, i think.

i'm still quite focused on my weight, but this whole tragedy has messed me up and brought my anxiety back to life. i have to see my shrink again and deal with my fears about death and getting ill. i don't know why i'm so afraid of that. i'm terrified of becoming ill and paradoxically enough i do have a sickness with my food obsession, but i cling to it and i'm not willing to let it go. i know that it can kill me in the end, but i refuse to recover fully from it. i might have periods of eating 'normally', but it always comes back. and i actually love it. i fear sicknesses, yet i'm consciously focused on exercise, on my diet, starving myself or eating extremely healthy foods, i'm thrilled to discover i've moved down a pant size, thrilled to discover lower numbers on the scales, thrilled to feel and be able to see my ribcage and hipbones through my skin stretched tightly across them.