Mind As A Syndicate

The fact that any one of you could be someone I know in real life scares me to death.
I'm not ready for people in real life to know the real me.
In fact, I wish I didn't know the "real" me.
I wish I'd just go away.
I wish I didn't have these secrets.

I wish my actions weren't backed by nefarious thoughts.
I wish I could open up to people.
Not just hide behind a computer screen.
I wish I wasn't so fake.

I guess I just feel like maybe if I try hard enough to be someone else it'll happen.
If I convince everyone that I'm okay, maybe I will be.
Maybe it's that easy.
Maybe it's all in my head.
you know what? I think it is.

Here's some advice, don't ever let your life be consumed by secrets.

Indispensable

Indispensable.

That's what I want to be to someone.
I'm so tired. I'm so sick of being left all alone.
I want to mean so much to someone and never want them to leave me.
Why is that so damn hard?
 I want someone to love me with all my insecurities and my failures.

You know what my best friend said before he left?
It wasn't goodbye.
It wasn't a promise to come see me.
It wasn't a promise to keep in touch.
It was an I love you.

That would be great, except that wasn't all it was.

"Abigail. I love you. Please don't cry. Just don't. Promise me you won't cut either. No, no, promise me you'll still be alive incase I ever come back."

That goodbye says so much about how fucked up my life is. I'm loved with conditions.
I can't be trusted to even keep myself alive. I'm too much to handle. I try so hard but fall so short.
And when I love the most, everything falls apart.

I just want to be indispensable.

Ballet

Ballerinas are beautiful.
They're graceful,
tiny,
strong,
and flawless.
They keep dancing even when their feet are bleeding.
They define perfection.
They move so effortlessly even on their worst days.
No matter what drama is going on,

they don't show it on stage.
They're everything I want so desperately to be.

From this moment on, I swear I won't stop until I'm perfect.
Even if it means dying.
Even if it means losing everyone who doesn't even want me anyway.
Even if I never make it.

Because who can't love a girl who's beautiful?
A girl who's tiny?
A girl who's strong?
A girl who's flawless?

He'll love me.
He'll want me.
He'll keep me around.

I'll be his only one this time.
I'll be able to keep him all mine.
I won't get hurt this time.

I love him.
He loves me.

By May 30th, I'll be perfect.

Still with me?

Still with me? Great! So let's start with this, I got caught purging the other day. Not in person, but on the phone.

For those of you who don't know what that means here's the dictionary.com definition:
"to rid of whatever is impure or undesirable; cleanse; purify"

Which is basically what I'm talking about, in another sense though. What I'm talking about is often called "binging and purging" or b/p. I'm assuming I don't have to explain that.

Okay, now I'm going to set this story up in a way that hopefully will make you understand how I felt.

Part 1:
You haven't kept any food down in days and you're feeling invincible.
You come home to an empty house and decide to eat a snack
You eat an apple and whatever else you find
You pull out your scale and see how much you weigh.

You don't like the number.

You try not to think about it, you try really hard.
You try and distract yourself.

It doesn't work.
Now you're scared.
You know what you have to do, but you'd do anything not to.
You're panicing and before you know it you're in the bathroom.
You run the shower just in case someone comes home.
You're leaning over the bowl, holding your hair back.

You don't even need any help anymore,
You cry as everything leaves your body.
Your throat burns,
You stomach feels like it's on fire.

Still you continue,
until you see blood.
You can't even cry anymore, all your energy is gone.
You flush it all down,
You put some leave-in shampoo on your hair to mask the smell.

Then your phone rings.
The one person you love the most is calling.
You know if you answer they'll know what's going on.
You answer.


This is what really goes on in your life. This is one of the things you don't want anyone to find out. What's worse than letting the only person you care about down? Nothing's worse than feeling alone. Wait -- I take that back, the only thing worse than feeling alone is actually being alone. 

You won't tell anyone about this will you? Pinky promise? perfect.

So here we are.

So here we are, 16 years, 10 months and 19 days later. Who knew I'd end up like this? 5'2" 127 pounds, straight A student, involved in the community, and basically everything a girl my age is supposed to be. What no one knows is that that same girl has secrets that would have her locked away in an asylum.

So, partially for your amusement and partially for my own selfish reasons, I'll let you into my fucked up mind and see how the story ends. This being said, nothing you read on here must ever get out. So here's your choice comeback in 7 days to read the newest additions in this blog, or exit and pretend it never happened.

So, if you're feeling brave, I hope you'll stay.

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