Monday, August 31, 2015

I HATE

I hate everything.

I hate my BF.

MOST. OF. ALL.

For being a huge douchey loser idiot who drains me in every way - emotionally, physically, financially, and spiritually. He is a fucking WASTE of humanity. He is rude and arrogant for no reason and FUCKING irresponsible and irrational and STUPID beyond belief, and I wish he would just fucking die sometimes. I honestly wish he would, because then I wouldn't be in this internal turmoil of tryng to decide if I want to put up with all the SHIT I have to to be with him. I wouldn't have to think about his ex being like "Oh I knew it wouldn't last. He doesn't love anyone enough to be a good person, especially not her" and all the other SHIT she would talk. I wouldn't have to deal with  and everyone fucking asking me "why didn't it work out?" and the thought of losing his fucking kids or re-starting my life or trying to figure out if someone else out there would be nice enough to spend time with naked. If he died, then everyone would have pity and not ask me SHIT and give me time to heal and grieve without trying to fuck me immediately. His ex would be decent because there is nothing left to fight over, and I would still get to see his kids because I'm a part of that if he's dead. And I wouldn't have to think about him moving on and being with someone else, but I would fucking GET TO and have a goddamn LIFE again.

Behavior is motivated by feelings. WTF. So like Paul.

Whom I ALSO HATE.

"I'm not a cheater" but I am. I just don't cheat on people who fucking ACT like they love me. I cheat on fucking assholes who have stopped giving a shit about me.

I hate Paul for not having any fucking substance or balls or personality and for being too fucking sweet. I hate that I can't get him out of my head and that he wasn't too douchey for me to not go over to his fucking house and get what I needed. I hate that he's so fucking flaky that it DOES make me overthink things, and I HATE that he called me out about that... I hate that he didn't text me back and that he isn't just grabbing me when I'm around. I hate that he's not Bird or Gerard. I hate that I want to go to his house RIGHT FUCKING NOW, and I probably could but I want a fucking invitation, and I don't get them because he's too STUPID to actually be with and can't do anything right with his life.

I hate Schwetz.

GOD I hate him, and I hope he never fucking texts me again. Don't keep me up all night saying all the right things and pretend like you're some amazing fucking person just to get into my pants or get a jack-off picture. I hate that he's musical and intelligent and charming and that he thought he could pull something over on me. I hate that he complimented me too much and made me feel like it's all BULLSHIT because why would anyone even think that shit about me? Because they DON'T and I hate myself and I know everyone else only tolerates me anyway unless they need a fucking therapist. I hate that me made me feel like I'm interesting and he was interested when it was just a huge fucking LIE and I hate that he won't fucking text me back and it makes me feel like a pathetic ASSHOLE.

I hate sketchy ass boys who have great girls at home or hanging around them that stomp all over other people's feelings and my fear of them which is so great that I would rather put up with the asshole I live with than risk unknowingly dating one.

I hate Laura and Danielle and Jenn for trying so hard to be so fucking supportive when in reality they're just making me feel like a huge pathetic asshole who can't leave her loser boyfriend but they don't fucking UNDERSTAND. I need motherfucking attention, whether it's good or bad, and right now I know that I have that no matter what. I hate that I'm a giant fat disgusting attention whore.

I hate myself.

I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.

I want to die. 

Friday, August 21, 2015

Gerard's kiss

I had a dream about Gerard the other night. It was so real. 

Suddenly, there in my mind's eye, was his nervously smiling and somewhat mischievous face: the face he used to make when he was thinking about being an asshole but instead his sentiment kicked in. The look he always gave to me. I asked Jenn about him, and she told me he moved back home. I wish I could have seen him one last time, in a way. Even though we don't talk because we hurt each other... I still wish we could sometimes. 

I was one of his weaknesses, I think. I don't know why, but I could have always had anything I wanted from him. He stayed away when he knew I wanted it, and he desperately wanted to come back when he thought there was a small chance it was possible. 

But I never wanted him the way he wanted me. I just loved his comfort, the way he felt, how he was reliable and how he treasured me. I felt so completely comfortable and desired and protected around him, and like I never had to work to maintain it. That's rare for me with any human being, much less one that I actually kind of like back... It's not like Bogart, who I kind of felt was a bit pathetic, in retrospect. I thought Gerard was interesting and handsome and desirable. Though not quite as desirable as the boy I felt I was supposed to be with... My love swept in and carried me off into the sunset, leaving Gerard fading in the past - though he did give a thorough effort not to be left there alone. 

I remember the night that Gerard and I kissed. I had actually wanted it for a very long time. I had wanted it since before my soulmate stepped in. I had wanted it first, which made it feel completely right and not like the betrayal some may have portrayed it as. It was probably the one of the best kisses of my entire life. But a blossoming romance was not suppose to take root from this kiss. It was just meant to be a kiss, and that was all I had ever really wanted. 

That warm, breezy summer night lying on the dock with a head full of smoke while or lips danced. That was one of those special, perfect moments in life. I felt so completely perfect in that moment. I had no worries about life, and at that moment I was getting exactly what I wanted. I knew he would not pressure me for more, and I didn't want more. I wanted exactly that: to kiss him and be kissed by him. I wanted nothing more and nothing less, and that was exactly what I was getting. It's so rare for life to give you exactly what you're wanting in a single moment without the distractions of pressure or insecurity or worry. It was one of those perfect moments. 

If I could go back to a handful of moments in life and relive them, that would be high on the list. 


Saturday, August 15, 2015

No rest for the wicked

"A good student is one who sets out to disprove everything they hear and not just remember it."

"The difference between how guys fuck and how girls fuck is simple: guys work hard for it. They're aggressive and work hard while women are lazy and passive. Guys fuck you. Girls make love to you. Maybe it's just the difference being impregnated and desperately wanting to spread your seed. Biological." 

My brain will. Not. Fucking. Shut. Off.  

Hello, again 4am. (My Freudian typing first read "Help.") Hello, insomnia and hunger pangs.

I guess I'll sleep when I'm dead and my creative juices have stopped flowing. I've been here before. For endless, sleepless years of my life. I don't ever understand why, though: why sleep leaves me for seemingly endless stretches of time or where it decides to go. I will assume it's return, only to be fooled night after night.It vacates my head and body and forces it to work overtime. The work gets sloppy fast... I need to find ways to trick my brain into allowing slumber to sneak into its dusty little corners. Roll in like the fog, sweet sleep. And please don't punish me with nightmares for tricking you inside. 

Don't think

I was good today. It was very difficult, but I did it. 

Normally when I'm stuck at work all day, I fuck it up badly at some point. Not today. Today's three meals consisted of a grilled chicken breast with green vegetables, a dry spinach salad with salmon, and a lite "Caesar" salad with Brussels sprouts and a couple bites of pasta. Oh and an apple and some strawberries. Less than 1,000 calories. I'll allow myself to see that as a win considering how awful and long today was and how sore I am from the gym yesterday and how badly I wanted to cave and binge. 

I've decided ten days.

Ten straight days before I freak over my weight, give in to temptation, or quit. Ten days before I think about the process or how "unhealthy" I am being or any of the mental anguish I normally put myself through. After ten days of doing weight loss and not thinking about it, I will compare progress to goals and reevaluate.
I don't know how to get on track if I keep thinking about it. When I think about it, I justify not losing, based on "what's healthy" and how "I'll do it the right way once I figure out what that is." However, I never figure out a different way to get the weight off... Then, I think about how good I could look or how "healthy" I could be if I could just manage to not be crazy about it but still lose it...

But maybe weight loss and being healthy just IS this insane and tortuous process of deprivation. Even the "healthy" people can't really fucking like it, right?? Doesn't every vegan truly, deep down, fucking crave a bacon cheeseburger? Don't we all just really fucking want to be "unhealthy?" But then, where's the line in regards to physical and mental health?? I'm physically healthy but mentally fucked up and never letting myself have what I want? Or I'm mentally ok with myself and indulge and just fucking give in and enjoy my life but then I'm just physically unhealthy and miserable about my body and just not about bacon cheeseburgers? Either way I'm miserable, right? Either way I'm fucking unhealthy

So, I've decided that as long as I'm going to be miserable, I might as well be miserable and look good. As long as I don't get to a point of hating myself with my weight loss process, then the process is acceptable. 

But then again, I just hate myself anyway as a fat ass, sooo... It's currently unsolvable. 
 
Ten days, then, love. 

Think thin. 


Friday, August 14, 2015

Time to do this

Today's intake:
B: coffee with a little milk and Splenda, canned peaches - 130 cals
L: chicken breast and kale sunflower seed chopped salad - 300 calories 
D: zucchini with tomato sauce, onions, mushrooms, and a little ground beef - 300 calories. 
Total: 700 calories 
Gym: burned 500+ calories

It's all I want. To go to the springs and turn heads again. To feel comfortable. I want to lose 20lbs, but I'd settle for anything at the moment... Time to give in. Today, I felt so good sticking to my old ways. I want to feel that old, comfortable process. I want it to be second nature again, and not something I have to think or plan. I want to feel hungry. 

Today was easy. I didn't get questioned when my breakfast was different or when my lunch was different. I was only questioned about dinner because it looked so yummy. I got a bit flaky at the end of the day, though. And I had to check my "hanger" before lunch and dinner a bit... But, my body listened when I told it "no" and "push through this workout." It knows it's fat too... And this time I won't try to make it do unreasonable things.

I will, however, make sure it gets back to a point where it isn't fucking up my emotions anymore. 

Day one. I know I can do this and how long it should reasonably take, so no more fucking excuses, Cally. 

No more Stasia. Cally is back. 

Friday, August 7, 2015

Strange

I told Lolly about Mia. It was weird confessing so much about myself and my past self to someone currently..."I'm trying to be good." That's my usual line, but I've come to realize that it doesn't mean "I'm trying to make my behavior good," but more like, "I'm trying to mentally be ok and in a stable place where I behave myself accordingly and in ways that I am ok with."

Hanging out with Pauly was fucking weird. He's weird. And shallow. How can someone have so little substance to themselves? How can people be so thin and watery? Being in his presence and listening to his life story opened my eyes, in a way. People who are in a position like myself aren't always like me... In the serving industry, you find a lot of people who are doing this for so many different reasons. But, the one thing they normally have in common, is that they are directionless. The other night made me realize this: Some people are directionless because they crave too much. Some people are directionless because they crave nothing at all.

I am definitely the former: I want to be a model and an artist and a therapist and a rock star and a housewife and a blogger and a dancer and a singer and a writer and a professor and a doctor and so many things rolled into one. I want to do everything and know everything and go everywhere and taste and experience anything that is possible. I want to fight life and all the negative shit it throws at me to make sure for MYSELF that I am happy and fulfilled and get anything I ever dreamed of having.

But, not everyone is like me. Some people are content with working a little job in a little town and focusing on their little lives and don't crave anything different. They have no depth. They have no scars, and they don't have to fight life to be happy, or maybe they just don't want to. It makes them mediocre. The best friends I've ever had in my life and the most interesting people I've ever encountered were people who were damaged. And the worst ones I've ever met have never had anything truly devastating to deal with in their lives.

Lolly is a trainwreck, and I prefer her over Pauly 1,000 times... It was like two opposite ends of the spectrum, and it was a little off-putting. It makes me appreciate my boyfriend SO much when I spend time with other people. I think in my life, I have only truly felt comfortable with a very small number of people, and I am thankful that he is one and that I have him. Even my EX and the ex-hubby were not in this category, and I am grateful that I ended up where I ended up in life, even if it always seems to be a struggle.

I would rather fight and struggle through life and make a name for myself and feel proud and accomplished and happy. I know I could settle on a different boy with a different path and a different lifestyle, and I could focus on my body and not my mind, and I could "have" so many things in life. But, I want THIS. I want to be different and intoxicating and unforgettable. I want to take drugs and run my mouth and get into trouble and push the boundaries and make awful, terrible mistakes and then FIX them. I want to push people when I see them slacking and push myself hardest of all. I don't ever want complacent.

I am different. And all people are, but I am TRULY different. I have never fit in anywhere I ever went. I am always loved or hated, and no one is un-opinionated about me. I'm weird. I've had a weird life and a strange upbrining, but I am happy about that. It made me who I am, and it took me years to figure out what society is and what parts I wanted to reject or accept. It has taken me a long time to realize that I am completely ok with me... Those who love me will never forget me, and those who hate me always seem to envy me anyway.

But, bottom line of course, it's time for my outsides to match my insides...

Still, eternally, thinking thin.