I’ve been sitting here for hours, trying to decide what I should write about today, but I really have nothing. Have the months of not attempting to string words together to form sentences on a blog reduced me to a heap of nothingness with no thoughts or opinions? I think it has. I feel like a less inspired person than I was a year ago…but that could be a good thing, I guess, since the only thing that spurred me on then was the surfeiting amount of negativity in my life. Is that how it works though – negativity being the driving force of thought? I mean, I am capable of thought, but not profound enough thoughts, something like “why is it called a ‘dinner party’ when it’s not really a party?” I know, I’m so thought-provoking.
I have realized that though, that I tend to express myself better when I’m down in the dumps. You should have been there when I was suicidal, I had so much depth.
Besides the fact that I’ve lost my ability of expression, I’ve been obsessing about my weight a tiny bit. A lot, because no one obsesses “a tiny bit”. I feel that if I were thinner, I would be happier, that if I’m thinner, I could love myself more. But the fact of the matter is, I don’t care, otherwise I would have addressed the matter head-on, probably go for a run or two, but I haven’t. I want to care but I can’t care that much probably because at the back of my mind I’m thinking “actually I look fine…in this angle…in this light” and that seems to be good enough for me.
And when I do actually motivate myself enough to lie down and do a sit-up, I realise that I can’t even bring myself to get up. I proceed to lie there, thinking “I’m gonna lie here for about 15 seconds then I’ll try to get up” and 15 seconds turn to 30, a minute, and when I finally realise what’s happening, it’s already the next morning and I actually have to get up to shower and go to work.
I sometimes manage about 2 or 5 sit-ups on a good day but then I get frustrated like “I’ve already done 3 sit-ups, what do you mean I’m not thin yet?”
After all that though, I must admit, I can’t be fucked to exercise, I have no willpower to drown myself in an eating disorder, and frankly, so what if I’m a little chubby? We can’t hate ourselves into a version of ourselves that we can love.