Sometime I don’t feel real. I feel transparent or sheer. People see through me or don’t see me at all. I can’t even see myself at times. I have blackouts when I drive. I am there driving then in a moment I am down the road and don’t know how I got there. I still see things – at times, I feel possessed by something more than myself. It’s not a supernatural sort of possession – but it is a demon of sorts. I have been more driven, more in control, more obsessive. Right now, I am obsessed with Victorian England – but in a way – I always have been. Writers are always in love with things that are long gone.
I have been writing poetry as of late. I can’t seem to stop. Nothing is good – I am unsatisfied with the words I write versus the emotions I feel and what I want to say. I remain uncertain of myself and of my path in life.
I have begun eating breakfast and lunch and dinner, but at the end of the day – I still average 500calories a day plus exercise. I try and exercise everyday in a valiant hope to shrink so my visions of disappearing can truly manifest and people will see what I see at last.
Steve, my boyfriend, is still sick and virtually nonexistent in my life. He never answers my calls – misses he special goodnight calls too. He is a broken boy and I still love him though I don’t think he deserves all the unconditional love and time I devote to praying for him, loving him, calling him, thinking about him, shopping for the perfect christmas gift for him etc. What’s worse is that he told me that when he does get better – work, family and friends will come before me – me. me who stood by him, who kept him company, who gave all of myself to him. I just don’t understand. I feel terrible about it.