last night in Canora House...last night with my mommas, last night in the kitchen of sex...
The minute I stepped into this kitchen, i immediately fell in love. The black hardwood floors..the island...the brushed stainless steel trough style sink...I felt like a grown up. The floor to ceiling mirror in the dining room...the leather couches and flatscreen TVs...my room.
Organized, down filled duvets and books scattered and filling every spare inch, awaiting me after long days spent on my feet. I felt at home for the first time in my life, for once i felt that i had something to GO HOME TO instead of run away from.
I can't wait to take the next step, the step that brings me closer to the 2 men in my life that also complete me in a way that i've never imagined possible until now.
But I have a secret.
come closer...i don't want the others to hear.
I'm A Mess.
I STILL have those thoughts...i still hate my body. I still wish to be like one of those plasticized exhibits on show at Bodies. I still wish that i had the metabolism of a 6 year old. I still wish that I had the self control to go days(weeks) without eating anything, with the exception of maybe a banana or half can of chick peas throughout the day for sustenance...
I used to crave the attention that came with the skeletal grin, now i only wish for the feeling of gratification that came with it. I love the feeling of seemingly endless energy that i have now, i love looking down at my arms and seeing only the scars of past razors, scalpels and syringes...no fresh bruises or tracks or cuts. They still bring tears to my eyes when i think of the things that i had to do to get them, but they are tears of strength. They are tears of memories past, the kind of tears that you get when you punch out a friend who deserved it.
What's the point of tonight's blog? At this point, i don't even know myself...
There's just a feeling of vacancy and inadequacy in my soul right now. The publishers are hounding me for the book's final edit...the restaurant is demanding my final draft of the revised menu, the government is craving my tazes and my teeth are begging for long overdue attention.
I feel like an irresponsible asshole...if and only because i realized that my alarm went off on my phone yesterday for a doctor's appointment that i ignored like an asshole. I fucking hate my blood being drawn...it's far too reminiscent of all those times i had to mix my fluids with poisons in a 40cc..
from the tourniquet to the site of injection to the vision of my blood in a syringe to the fear of learning that i'm not well after all...
I CAN'T FUCKING DEAL.
what do i do now? where do i go? i have no vices left...i have a heart of napalm encased in a ribcage of fear and regret...
i supppose it's a start?