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Craving for something but what is it?
I often doubt the existence of emotions. Because if they exist then I should be able to easily identify them within myself and my actions. But I can’t make sense of any of it.
I can see it in literature. Understand it. Sympathize with it. But living out those same things, none of it feels like it should. I don’t feel distinct emotions in clarity. I don’t have obvious body language that I can observe from myself or anyone around me. There isn’t a ‘calm/tension that falls over the room,’ there isn’t anything. Everything, everyone, I, am simply there. Everything simply is. There’s no emotion to it. All I feel is a flurry of intentions and wants and wishes, I can’t recognize anything in that mess.
I should be enjoying this break, I should feel so free and unhindered because I no longer have to go to that place. And yet.
I don’t know what I feel.
I don’t know why I continue to try kicking myself.
Trying to starve and failing and feeling bad because sometimes, most of the time, a mf just forgets because it isn’t a matter of calories to me, it’s just about changing, hurting, a body I don’t care for don’t like didn’t ask for. So of course I’d forget about it. As long as there isn’t a mirror right in front of me, I can forget. Maybe I should just avoid reflective surfaces.
Getting overwhelmed with how much I could do in the time (limited so limited I need more time, I have a whole life, but will I even be around for that long?) that I have. Because I’m not doing everything at once, I might as well not be doing anything at all. But I need to enjoy it—
What is the happiness in it all? Should I have instead experienced relief?
I’m reduced to threatening myself, it’s hilarious, you should hear the way I talk to myself in my head like my thoughts and feelings actually help me make my decisions. Of course they don’t. I may want to talk, I may want to share, I may want to do, but my body will lie down in this bed and rot.
The threats don’t work by the way.
What is any of this anyway. Stuck in some limbo of not feeling like I’m getting the satisfaction I expect and knowing it could be worse. It could always be worse.
And it could always be better.
But I couldn’t be better.
Well this body couldn’t.
Although my intentions could change.
Enjoy? What would it entail?
Read read music read talk eat (without guilt because who gives a fudge, if none of this even matters why does food intake matter? Why should I care what this stupid body looks like, it’s not my problem, I didn’t make it, it isn’t mine, not my problem, convincing myself I try so hard every time but I know it for a fact that there’s no way I’m getting out of this might as well accept things as they are no?
Just missing memories, it’s never been that strong.
My body, because that’s how it works? It’s not my fault it’s appearance makes me want to kill myself in brutal ways.
Mind and thoughts that everyone has. Normal. Fine.
Bed. Because it is night time.
Pajamas. Boxers because she bought them for me lol.
Literature. Because I’m obsessed. That’s fine. Just do it. And have fun while I still fudging can.
Phone. Cracked. Whatever.
Charger. Nearly in shambles lolol.
Dreams. Distant. Let’s forget.
Fan. Useless and important.
Intentions. Fine. Just idle. Don’t focus.
Everything’s fine. Nothing matters. Lose yourself. Read. Sleep. Eat. Or don’t. Maybe sleep deprivation but that doesn’t feel quite nice. But sleep is boring. I’m just so tired of thinking I’m going to take a break.
I’m not hungry.
But I want to eat.
I have a feeling that trying to hold yourself back from doing something just makes you want to do it more.
I’m not hungry for any of those things I know we have. Maybe I just want something in my mouth lmao