Okay let me explain something.
I am a dancer.
This creates a problem.
I want to cleanse myself of the impurities. I want to sleep and fast and read and meditate and let go. But my job starts on Monday, tomorrow, I don't know what to do.
I want to be alone.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Fat, Flab and Food.
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I consume, I release.
I indulge, I expel.
I need help. But I have to find my way on my own.
I am a strong young woman.
I have made this mess of myself and it is my job to fix it.
Although I am not exactly sure how to go about it, it is necessary.
I cannot enjoy living if I am not living healthily.
I consume, I release.
I indulge, I expel.
I need help. But I have to find my way on my own.
I am a strong young woman.
I have made this mess of myself and it is my job to fix it.
Although I am not exactly sure how to go about it, it is necessary.
I cannot enjoy living if I am not living healthily.
Love
What is it to be loved and why do we crave it so?
I crave love beyond what I ever thought possible. But although I am beautiful, I cannot find it. I trust no one enough to give to them what I expect in return.
I want what I cannot have. Yet I don't know why I cannot have it. I have tried and failed many times over. I have been cheated on, and I have cheated. I have hated the other woman and I have been her. I am a hypocrite. I feign love to receive it.
I create my own story through reckless adventure.
My adrenaline fills the absence of my cravings.
To tell the tales of my misadventures, through hitchhiking and molestation to extreme sports and dangerous circumstances, would be to re-enforce the false life I have lived.
I lived these events only to tell of them. As if I was watching myself live them.
Creating my own tragedy.
I must find my own importance to myself. I cannot rely on others to carry me through life on their intrigue and sympathy.
I even went to therapy. But not to be healed, only for the chance to tell my story once more.
And so in silence, I bury my past. Accepting my failures and moving forward.
I crave love beyond what I ever thought possible. But although I am beautiful, I cannot find it. I trust no one enough to give to them what I expect in return.
I want what I cannot have. Yet I don't know why I cannot have it. I have tried and failed many times over. I have been cheated on, and I have cheated. I have hated the other woman and I have been her. I am a hypocrite. I feign love to receive it.
I create my own story through reckless adventure.
My adrenaline fills the absence of my cravings.
To tell the tales of my misadventures, through hitchhiking and molestation to extreme sports and dangerous circumstances, would be to re-enforce the false life I have lived.
I lived these events only to tell of them. As if I was watching myself live them.
Creating my own tragedy.
I must find my own importance to myself. I cannot rely on others to carry me through life on their intrigue and sympathy.
I even went to therapy. But not to be healed, only for the chance to tell my story once more.
And so in silence, I bury my past. Accepting my failures and moving forward.
Who I am.
My name is unimportant.
I am a reckless girl of 16 years.
I chose to find my own way when I left home.
I am vain, not only in appearance by self image.
I don't see the relationship of cause and effect clearly.
I am disconnected. I am social and I am alone.
I am what I appear because I have made myself over.
I do not want to remain as I am.
This is my story and this is my path to health.
I am a reckless girl of 16 years.
I chose to find my own way when I left home.
I am vain, not only in appearance by self image.
I don't see the relationship of cause and effect clearly.
I am disconnected. I am social and I am alone.
I am what I appear because I have made myself over.
I do not want to remain as I am.
This is my story and this is my path to health.
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