I’m feeling kind of strange this morning.
Maybe because I started work at 9 this morning instead of 8.
I complain about getting up at 6am but really, it’s so much better than 7am. It’s a major difference.
Last night at about 9pm I stuffed three arrowroot biscuits with a dribble of honey on each, into my mouth.. chewed and chewed and spat it back out again. That was pretty much the lowest eating point of my night.. so yesterday – I’m fairly sure I did very well!! I stuck to my guns of no snacking – except about 4 olives – I don’t know whether the biscuits count or not??
Anyway, my eyes are closing and my voice is not working properly and I’m fairly sure I need a no-doze or a coffee. I’d like a nice milky coffee.. yes, I would. BUT. I’ll have a no-doze. Doesn’t really count in calories now, does it?
Okay – I’ve had 2 no-doze. Maybe this post will become a bit more interesting cos of it. I feel like posting some confessions.
These confessions are taken from www.grouphug.us – It’s a fantastic site. People confess, der.. and it’s posted on this site. Very good for days when you have hours to fill in at work.. like me.
These confessions kind of got to me – I’m not sure why.. but something in them just ticked me off, in a good way.
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So I guess we’re all growing up now and we’re not anything like what we used to be and we’re not anything like the pictures of us that our parents took when we were five and splashing around naked in the blue inflatable kiddie pool that our dads blew up with their mouths and filled with cool hose water but I don’t want to move on because I liked the way I was when I was a toddler and I liked the world the way I saw it when I was little. I want to be truly excited about the ice cream man again and I want to think I’m rich when I find a quarter on the ground and I want to go back to the time when bubble baths were acceptable forms of bathing and I want to find shapes in the clouds again and love rolling down the hill and I want to be able to put my baby teeth under my pillow for quarters in the morning and I want to once again love the glow sticks my parents bought for my brother and I that we would keep in the freezer so they’d last longer and take out every night and stare at them under our bed sheets until we fell asleep and my parents would sneak in and put them back in the freezer for tomorrow and I want to spend hours trying to catch butterflies and I want to make mud pies and wear little tiny rain boots and splash in puddles and I want to believe in Santa Claus again and I want to be excited about getting goldfish at the pet store and I want to trade candy with my brother after a night of trick-or-treating and I want to fit comfortably under my bed and I want to get lollipops when I get my hair cut and I want to diligently make leprechaun traps that never work and I want to get eggs from the Easter bunny and I want to finger paint and I want to sing the alphabet song and not understand how to tell time and I want to be tucked into bed at night and I want my nightlight with Winnie the Pooh on it back and I want to cry about skinned knees and laugh about knock-knock jokes and really truly love Dr. Seuss again and not fake-trying-to-be-cool loving it but this-is-the-same-book-you-read-to-me-every-night-of-the-year-but-I-want-you-to-read-it-to-me-again loving it and I want to fear only the monster under my bed and I want to not care how I look and not care what people think and I want to be excited about jigsaw puzzles that are too easy and I want to be able to spend ten hours drawing monsters on the concrete with chalk and not notice that a whole day has gone by and I want to have to learn to tie my shoe again and I want to not know that my race is different from your race and I want to be able to cry whenever I want to and I want to know that everything is always okay and that there will be someone watching ready to pick me up when I fall and brush off my hands and put band-aids on my knees and hold me and hug me and whisper in my ear that it’s alright and that I shouldn’t cry and that it’ll stop hurting soon and I want to ride my tricycle with the orange handles and black bars and the little glow-in-the-dark beads that my dad and mom helped snap on the spokes so they clacked when the wheels spun.
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my little brother died new years day & i couldn’t save him.i choke inside on the rising tide of failure & horror & guilt - so i puke it up & splatter it down the bog every day. i always knew i was this sick inside - & now i see my filthy putrid self undisguised by my lying body.is your face creasing up with disgust? excellent. sympathetic looks i get from everyone else are woefully misdirected.cowardice aside - i love him too much to die no matter how much i want to rip at my heart with these tweezers.the truth is he mustn’t want me to join him - otherwise why would he have left?
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A man called me glamorous once, among other things. I love him. But I will never be what he says I am. I’ll never figure out why he wants to fuck me so much.Just about all women are plagued with this self-image shit that’s shoved down our throats, and into our pussies.Damn, I mean…fuck this place. I think we should all give up and be ugly. Think of how much could get done!
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I have nothing to do, and I’m tired of the internet.
I was thinking about just taking a really long walk, even though it would be dark, cold and lonely.
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I randomly started chatting with some 26 year old guy from craigslist, and now he routinely IMs me just so he can get off. At first he seemed to enjoy who I was, we had a great conversation, but now all he’s interested in is sex-talk. It’s getting kind of boring. Sometimes I just want to have a normal, intelligent conversation. This has happened before. I thought I had an intellectual connection with a guy and that he valued me as a person, but it seemed like he was far, far more interested in sexual aspects of our relationship. It kinda makes me feel… bad. And frustrated. Like my brain is just completely going to waste.
So these confessions mean a lot to me in a big way – I’m not sure why but I especially like 518211261 and 73655305 and 695063355 - and I think this one is cute:
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i wish i could throw up rainbows.
life would be so beautiful
Soo umm this is my post for the moment – I’ll be back later cos I’m BORED.
BTW, there are so many confessions on there about Ana, Mia and ED. They're comforting to read.
i've got to check out that website, too! xxx
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