Friday, December 17, 2010

let the world spin madly on



I don't think I could to add to this. To work out some recent thoughts, however, I will pitch in a cent or two.

We've all danced alone. We've watched friends and lovers leave when all we've wanted is their company. We've lived in the warm fabrication of our dreams when stark reality offered little logic. We've fought to let go of it all.

There have been times that I lived only for my imagination, the sole place I had the power to concoct the world that should have been. But the world is what it is, and it continues to spin in its madness.

This song, this dance, gives me an odd sense of anticipation. It causes me to both look forward and look back. There is a deal of heartache behind, and there is sure to be heartache ahead. ButhonestlyI wouldn't have it any other way. Heartache is dynamic, it moves is a way love can only imitate. It takes up your body, your mind, your soul. It pushes you to hell. But in short spans between the fits of denial, the rants, the tear stains, the loosing of appetites and subsequent comfort binges, the picture burnings, the nights of demobilizing pain, the avoidance of reality, the bitter love song screamings, the retreats to imagined but fantastical reconciliations with the one who you irretrievably lostbetween it all comes glimpses of refined clarity. You come to know yourself in hell. And then you pull yourself out.

I believe in love, of course, I have to. I have to believe that it is worth all it is built up to be, to believe it is worth having some day. But I've never had to convince myself of heartache. Heartache is real. Heartache is cathartic. It may sound utterly naive, but I am anticipating my next brush with it, to know myself in it. Let the world spin madly on, and I will wait for heartache to touch me again. With the familiarity of an old friend.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

sometimes bulimia is the healthiest option

I am regretting the night's activities. Harmless movie followed by harmful consumption.

Fast food always seems like such a good idea at the time, but regret almost always follows. (Why do I forget that regret almost always follows?) Poor decisions put me in a slightly urgent state of moral dilemma: Do I complacently allow my body digest the large side of cow and harvest of potatoes I was too foolish to deny--resulting in a drastically reduced lifespan filled with obesity, heart disease, and self-loathing? Or do I just have up with it all?

It's an interesting evening when you realize that developing an eating disorder may be a strategic advancement up the rungs of the health ladder.

Thursday, December 2, 2010