I am bleeding. still. It has been 3 days.
life is a shitshow, susan.
I have resigned myself to the fact this shitshow will go on, for as long as I remain in this god forsaken position of self hatred. I never really thought of myself as someone who absolutely could despise their mere existence, you know. And if I'm being honest I could almost say my inflated sense of ego really blocks any prospect of misfortune I may ever wish upon my being. Yeah I'm wrong, as always.
This one hell of a promise had been somewhat kept (stale and critically unstable) for the past three months. How? God knows. I've thought that if the means to the end cannot be achieved by march it will very much be god's will, and I'll take it as some form of mercy the universe has offered me and call this shit off.
It happened in April. Universe's ultimate fuck you, albeit very literally, once again in a way which I fail to appreciate.
Mostly I am glad it is over, and more than that perhaps, I am glad it happened. As I said my self esteem after much profound reflection (not) is in fact anything but intact and well. A large aspect of this is that I love to dress up. I love the process of putting up makeup and hiding myself. But as much as I want to think and almost dare to see myself as cute I never truly believed it since no one ever told me so (duh).
Here comes the stupidly cheesy part. He does find me cute. Quite a lot it seems. And he has gotten to a point where he can be self conscious during my attacks of hugs and kisses (tmi please just shutup already). I am also apparantly a lot more clingy (in a reserved way) than I think. Still dumb though.
It's honestly been a wholesome encounter, more than what I've hoped for really. I don't expect much, but at the same time I am acutely aware of the mental toll it had taken on me, and will probably continue to take on me. Life has never really felt in control for the best part since I entered secondary school, and in a desparate attempt I have instead started to try and find some remote sense of control through trying to starve myself instead.
The good part? I lost 7kg. I am 50kg now. Even he said it feels different hugging me now.
The shit part? I have no energy, I rely on my monster energy and bouts of random adrenaline to survive from the afternoon. Also I have no fucking idea when I may break. I am in fear of bingeing. Oh and not only do quest bars send me straight to the toilet family mart has decided to fuck me in the ass again by discontinuing my favourite salad chicken. Fuck you.
Is there ever going to be an end to this? Will I ever lose enough weight to enter my skinny era? Is 44kg a death sentence? Will I break or will I break? Will my avoidant man contact me again? We shall see.
Lastly, on a slightly heavier note, why do I feel so much melancholy in you when we embrace?