Fed Up

Writing about the day before I dropped out and started homeschooling. Bad time, even worse decision.

So things are moving very fast, but I have to continue at this abrupt pace. I'll die if I don't- no lies.

Sunday night was so cold. It was one of those days when you just wake up, sensing trouble. You can feel that uncertainty just lingering on. It came, no doubt, as my dissapointments from the day before carried on. I woke up a failure, and I went to sleep a failure. What a lovely day.

To begin things, my weight was down. That makes me both happy and sad. I love having the weight come off- it just feels like magic, the ultimate transformation and thrill. Beauty, purity, even if it was only two pounds. I didn't even anticipate this thrill though, and ofcourse- it led to more complications. Let the parental hounding begin.

I arrived home from this thrilling and horrific expirience. I had to go for a run, for my mother and I were already beginning to argue. My mood was so unstable, she simply asked me to grab my cell phone incase something wre to happen, and I immediatly went off. But I had to clear my head, for I had to run. I had to run away from yesterday, and the failure that would continue to haunt me.

My stirdes were big- my turnover quick. Down, down, down- my feet stroke the pavement . Not in the light and enjoyable fashion that I love, but a heavy hard manor. Already, my breath was escaping me, and I was back on the track. I wasn't really tired, just doubtful. I was again at the mile start.

I was again out of the world, my head wandring in some foreing location, certainly not in focus were it should have been. That gun was sounding again- on your mark! She shot up ahead. I lost my pacer. I gave up. I wanted to steal the gun at that moment, but there was still three laps to go. I didn't care- I couldn't care. My feet were still heavy. I was jogging now. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry! I could do so much better, I had done so much better, with bigger challenges on hand. But I couldn't manage, my feet stayed heavy. Ambition was gone. I just jogged along. Stupid me. Stupid me. That heavyness infested my sould as I crossed the finish line, still containing every bit of energy the world had to offer.

But that was Saturday, maybe I would succeed tomarrow? I kept on pounding the pavement, literally. My form was off, I was angry. I wanted the hospital. I wanted to die. Life became overated. I was going to kill myself upon my arrival home. This evil just wouldn't leave me alone, even during the most peaceful hour of my day- my run. I couldn't run any more, atleast from these problems. Three miles down, three to go. I arrived in my driveway, foreboding the day's remainder of hell.

My mom, lovingly, inquires about school. She wanted to know if I was going to attend full time this week. Sure mother, I'm going to take my physco a*s to school, and achieve my f*****g grades. I'll bring home the three B's I've been working hard on ALL damn semester, and hang them on the fridge. Then I'll hang myself in my closet. You can keep me on display too, and tell people how I'm not that bad. You can then explain to them how A's are great, but fuckups are still cool, too. F**k.