We suffer because we learn from our suffering.
If you hide your whole life, you’ll forget who you even are.
… He was the personification of all the snow in the world.
i don’t feel any happier than i did from when i was that big.
honestly, i wasn’t even that big. but now i feel superior to those who do eat normally - even though i know i’m the fucked up one making the mistakes.
but, uh, you know. this morning my mom was talking about her friend’s mother in law who just passed away. three years bedridden. and i think i’m going through a lot? well, fuck, this ain’t shit. this is child’s play compared to real suffering.
i wonder what she thinks about when she’s bedridden. when she was younger? does she look at the ceiling and… if it happens to me, will i stare at the ceiling and see prague when i close my eyes? (there comes that surge of emotions i’ve tried so hard to throw up) will i see… myself in new york, dressed to the nines? will i feel a steering wheel or rifle in my hands? or a kiss on my lips? and will i ever want it to end?
well, fuck. this ain’t shit.
Tattoo created by a monkey.
"What do you see?" "Corruption and envy and lust for power. Cruelty and coldness. A vicious, probing curiosity. Pure poisonous, toxic malice. You have never from your earliest years shown a shred of compassion or sympathy or kindness without calculating how it would return to your advantage. You have tortured and killed without regret or hesitation; you have betrayed and intrigued and gloried in your treachery. You hare a cesspit of moral filth."
I know smoking isn’t very healthy or whatever and people get so mad when you say it’s attractive but there’s just something about the connotation behind smoking that makes it nice, the way a person seems so at ease when they smoke makes it so attractive. The positive connotation that the persons a free spirit or a rebel or anything really, but i feel like the main idea is a sense of individuality. I love watching people smoke and do tricks like they’re in their own little world because they kinda are. That’s sorta stupid, but whatever.
I understand now that boundaries between nose and sound are conventions. All boundaries are conventions, waiting to be transcended. One may transcend any convention, if only one can first conceive of doing so. Moments like this, I can feel your heart beating as clearly as I can feel my own; and I know that separation is an illusion.
i miss europe because over there i didn’t have to talk to these people in a language we both understood but can’t understand why we don’t understand each other. it’s easy for me to open up about certain stuff. but it’s hard for me to be consistent or honest. i just say whatever comes to mind, whatever words make sense at the time. it’s not that i don’t think about it. i just honestly think too much.
i didn’t lose fifteen pounds for anybody else. i tell myself that. but these idiots i’m surrounded by are so fucking stupid. i know i’m playing with fire, i know there’s something wrong with my body when i wake up in the morning and can’t get enough energy to go up and down the stairs more than twice. i know there’s something wrong with what i’m doing, but i don’t care because i’m alive, and i’m barely alive sure but god damn it it’s winter break, what do i need energy for? i want results fast.
why do i want results? because my family and these shitty people i can’t wait to forget have spent the past sixteen or so years (sparing me for the first few of my life) telling me how there are things to edit, to change. their little jabs and shit, sure, i forget them, but there’s a reason i don’t lay in bed until the very last minute i can stay awake and that’s because these thoughts haunt the hell out of me, whispering shit in my ear and everything. and then all of a sudden they decide to laugh and tell me these things like how they’re worried and how i’m doing it wrong? bitch, look at your fat self in the mirror and look at your ugly face and then look at me, and keep telling yourself that this destruction i’m making isn’t worth it.
it’s not about society. well, it is if you want it to be. but for me it’s about getting ahead and winning and doing it by any means necessary. they know i’d step on anyone i had to to get what i want. that includes myself. these pussies are too scared to put their bodies through this - meanwhile, they binge on fucking shit and lay on their asses and they’re allowed to criticize? and i can’t say anything? god damn it mom you’re a girl you know these things i’m going through. why can’t you be there for me? fuck
i just want to be the daughter that picks up the tab. i don’t want to visit her. i’ll just pay.
they’ve honestly instilled in me such a sense of shame in everything that i do, which is illogical because i know i’m better than them. but they just always criticize me. if you saw me on the street you’d never think it (i hope). they’re just the worst. passive-aggressive, pretending like they give a shit. god, honestly, i’m not doing this for anyone else but why can’t you see that i’m lying about that? you’d think a mother would be more intuitive. you throw insults at your daughter all her life and punches and abuses and you really think that her reason for going on this crazy diet has nothing to do with you?
And the unspeakable things… The things you get, then are afraid of losing, all of a sudden.
I hope I never lose sight of what’s important. The artist in me won’t allow it, but she’s just one wide-eyed spirit. There are other monsters.