I have something to say:
It’s better to burn out, than to fade away!
And if you said, “There can be only one!” in response to that, you’re a child of the eighties. Welcome to my era.
Okay, enough reminiscing…
I’m still feeling blah, but I really don’t think there is something wrong with me.
Granted SAD might be a possibility if you’re living in some OMG place where you have two hours of sunlight a day, but I live in Perth which has an average of eight hours of sunshine all year around. Which is exactly why Perth is filled with pommies escaping their infamously bad English weather – that and the fact that you can buy a house ten times the size here for the same money.
I’m just funky and out of sorts. Aren’t I allow to mope around a little and throw surly looks at people, or do I have to wear a t-shirt that says ‘goth’ for it to be okay?
One thing I would like to desperately get off my chest is that when I’m not feeling the best about myself, having really unfortunate pictures of me plastered all over the internet, does not in any way, shape or form make me feel any better about myself. In fact, it makes me feel a shit load worse.
So, if anyone wants to be supportive of me while I’m going through this funk, all you have to do is DON’T TAKE FUGLY PICTURES OF ME!!!
And FFS, DON’T POST THEM ON THE INTERNET!!!
Is that too much to ask?
I think a lot of this feeling bad about myself thing is due to the increasing focus on my looks, my clothes and my weight during my interactions with M.
I’ve never wanted him to get involved in that side of business from the very beginning for the simple fact that they are extremely sensitive topics as far as I’m concerned. I know what I look like. I know my problems. I don’t need anyone else to get involved with them but me.
If I had a dollar for every conversation I’ve had with him that involved ‘slave weight’ over the past few months, I’d be a very rich woman. I try not to wave his flaws in front of him like a red flag and I’m very conscious of not discussing certain sensitive topics because I know they are hurtful so why can’t he do the same for me?
I’m sure he is likely to say in his defence that it’s just ‘wordporn’ or whatever, but words.hurt.me. I take them all in and file them away. Three or four times a day I still randomly think of an off-the-cuff mark that a friend made months ago. It still hurts.
Not ‘hurts’ in the sense that the words are bad, it’s just that they make me accept reality. It’s not that what was said was not true or particularly insulting or anything like that, it’s just that when I think about it, suddenly I’m slammed back into reality and disappointment that I’m not better/beautiful/sexy/whatever washes over me.
It’s reality and it’s harsh.