What Brought You Here?

Monday, November 4, 2002

In Which Everything is So Very

Well, I did it. I commited an act of e-mail stalking. If I get no response I guess I'll have to presume that he had just had too much to drink that night and I will give him the tape the next time I see him.

A wave of "I don't matter"ness has just come over me. I slept well past 4 today and so have decided to pull another all-nighter. Unfortunately, the Minions of the World Insomniacs are at their greatest on weekend nights. I've had 420 calories today. I ran, after dark, and I will probably go again in the morning. I just have to stay up long enough to go to my gyn appointment tomorrow at 1:30.

Then I'll have another appointment with my therapist at 2ish on Tuesday. What do I want to show her? A client dissappering before her eyes, dying of loneliness, or a woman who is rolling with the punches? I feel the loneliness now. I feel it so deep and disgusting and dirty like that soup I just made myself eat. My appetite has come back to some degree. . . I think the way I am feeling is the result of half my dosage of zoloft being ripped from me in the past few days. The crying, I can see it happening. If only I could read. I will try again.

I need a real life outside of my apartment but whenever I am out too long I feel like an alien. I *have* to get back to my case where I belong. So I sit here lonely because (oh, lame) nobody is responding to my messages, because I developed an unlikely crush and am not getting unreasonably quick results. And my students are emailing me begging me to come back to them because I am more fun than their substitute. Maybe so, but at least your substitute can *read*.

God this feels awful. I don't want to be sick anymore. A character of Dostoevsky's said that only the sick see ghosts because they inhabit the realm between the dead and the living, they are on a precipice of sorts. I don't want to be on a precipice anymore. Why do I have to be sick? I'd rather be dead. Not, "I'd rather be dead than fat", that is utterly ridiculous. The only reason I am losing weight right now is my depression. It will only be once I get below 120 that it becomes attributable to and classifiable as anorexia nervosa. And maybe that will be good. Maybe that will numb the depression.

But I will still be sick, and that's the bugger. I want to be healthy or just fucking die already. I don't have the guts to do it myself, I know. I actually consciously saved myself from my last two ODs by purging after realizing the effects of having taken too many pills and making myself stay awake for hours afterward. I know I want to live. I just don't fucking want to live like this. I want it to go away.

No comments:

Post a Comment

If you don't have anything nice to say, come sit next to me.