Sunday, August 8, 2010

We're not falling in love, we're just falling apart.

I am so horribly disgusting, four pounds heavier than I was nine days ago. And tomorrow's my weigh-in for le progress page. Now I can have record of what a fucking "loser" I am. Haha, yay.

There has been some emotional disturbance that could account for all the binging (only purged once this week). I've been pondering all the great questions of my marriage... Why did you hurt me? Why did you tell me those things? Why did you leave? Why are you here now? Why do you love me? A year and a half ago we had some serious domestic problems. And I've tried so hard to forget about them, to sweep all it under my mental rug and forget everything.

When it all comes rushing back, what do I do? Take out two bags of cereal, a gallon of milk, one loaf of bread, a giant can of spaghetti-o's, and a box of granola bars... in an astonishing nine day period. And all of that disgusting slop is still inside my body, sloshing around, being absorbed as fat.

I need to find a good job, and get the fuck out of this town. Retreat into a city where nobody knows me and disappear. Live in a nice house nestled in some rolling hills, surrounded by so much beauty that I could never make myself ugly again. And I need to squash the husband issues. Once these obstacles are gone (man and location) maybe the great depression over my heart will lift and I'll actually allow myself to transform once more.

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