Sunday, March 30, 2014


If my mind stops worrying before my leg stops shaking you will be the first I'll let know, dear internet.

What if I don't remember how to go back to school? What if the reports and all the things have slipped away from me when I wasn't paying attention?

Worse still, what if I'm no better at all? What if my welcome back committee consists of a hundred pills and a rope? A long tumble with concrete at the end? What if i just feel better now and everything will come back and I will no longer study trees but become one, become rooted in fear? What if I can't move forward so I begin to rot and I seep into the soil below my toes and little by little I fade away back into the earth? I don't want that (anymore) I want to grow and live (I suppose) and do things and see space (I think). What if my own silly mind won't let me? How many hours of community service and fasting and piety can put in order my disordered mind? 

Or what if everything is absolutely fine, what if I can adapt and learn and be healthy and laugh and eat and grow and grow and grow and everyone will think I was lying, that I wasn't really sick that I was just lazy. And what if I am. I didn't cut that deep. I only needed one stitch (no silly girl it's because they could only place one stich in the tic taco toe board you carved on top of the wrong vein)

It wasn't that serious

It's not that serious

I'll be fine


I haven't been getting and sleep and I have been getting too many nightmares -- problem number 1. When the us nets it seems to bring all my happy thoughts with its light to the other side of the world, and my arms are not long enough to reach over and snatch them back -- problem 2. 

On the other hand I have been eating less and taking up less space and this is positive. This is a good thing. Recovery be damned, I want to be thin!

No I'm not on a fast, I'm not a good behaved little girl who can shut her damn mouth to edibles, not. But I have reduced. I have gotten back some control (but not enough as the blinking horribly high numbers on my weighing scale can testify to in court). Still. Improvement. Some comfort.

Yesterday I attended a Reiki level 1 Workshop. They said it'd help me sleep. Do you know how strange and tiring and wonderful it feels to think nice lovely positive thoughts of white light and power and I am alright I am okay I am part of this great wonderful universe - type thoughts for a whole day? I didn't and it hurt my head. I got to sleep last night though, maybe my chakras are tired of being blocked. Maybe I was overcome by exhaustion and the ghosts in the corners of my room and my mind took naps as well.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

A new year

I wish I was busier so I could be less sad. It's silly but on weekends I can never relax. Things are too still and the bad feelings and the wonky thoughts are too close and I am walking on thin ice for a 48-hour journey. I think I lie too much. I don't lie still enough anymore because holding still is the opposite of moving forward and too close to slipping backward, but I feel like I lie much too much. Hi I am Ally and I'm fine (haha)

I have no more money because my cats ate and shit on all of my savings and that worries me. I want to go surfing and feel the sun but I gained back all the weight I lost after I tried to kill myself (does that set me back to November as well?). Summer classes are almost here and I can already head everyone whisper whisper whispering about how Oh look she's gained weight and bet about when my balloon face will float up into the sun. It's terrifying. I'm terrified. I'm terribly lonely and I don't want company, do you know what I mean? It sounds silly but I think it's a common feeling and everyone can relate and that is another point that argues towards my commonness. Hello I am Ally and I am not anything in particular, not even particularly sad or particularly thin anymore, so what am I?

There is a fly that lives in my room and my cats find it absolutely fascinating but I take it was a sign of my decomposition. If I am stagnant and not moving forward or even slipping falling stumbling backward then what am I doing but rotting? I am not concrete. I am not cement. I am not plastic. I was once a real! live! girl! and now that I'm not, I am the biodegradable remnants of one. I bet that fly crawls under my skin when I'm sleeping and lays it's eggs in between my skin and fat and that's why I can never sleep well.