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January 9, 2012

a bit blue.

i found this picture on postsecret a few weeks ago and saved it. every sunday, there's usually at least one postcard that makes me close my eyes and exhale, one postcard that feels a little too close to home.

right now, things just feel a van gogh had his blue period, and i suppose this is mine. i just feel like i'm in a funk and it's starting to cloud everything. part of it's winter, part of it's being sick, and part of it is the impending loneliness that grows a bit deeper when you have a lot going on, especially when you bring the "a lot" on yourself.

i've just spent close to an hour writing about kentucky. and i hate it. "write 3-5 pages on your autobiography as a traveler. take 30 minutes. take an additional 30 if you need it." i took a bit more than the allotted 60. and i still hate it. sitting in front of a blinking cursor thinking of all the restrictions made the restrictions all i could focus on. if it's not perfect, i don't want it. well, good luck with that, rhi. what a healthy way to go through life. this one life you have.

i found this one several months ago, maybe closer to a year ago. "at least when i'm fat there is a clear reason why no one looks at me" describes me during high school. and sometimes still.

sometimes i feel* like i purposely sabotage myself when it comes to losing the last remaining pounds i want to lose, the pounds i feel i need to lose. they are an armor, my armor. they protect me. if i keep them on my bones, i won't have to worry about the messiness that comes with dating someone. never mind that a man wanted to date me when i was seventy pounds heavier. and a different one wanted to date me when i was fifteen pounds heavier. it has nothing to do with them. if i keep these last few pounds on my bones, i won't get hurt again. i won't get hurt again. i don't want to get hurt again. i don't want to date anyone right now. i just want some peace. i want the peace i promised myself on new year's eve. i don't want men looking at me, not on the bus, not at the gym, not in class. because all i think in those moments is what my 12 year-old self felt, what my 14 year-old self felt, what i felt at 17, "they're making fun of me." my obsession with food as a teenager has turned into an obsession with being healthy/going to the gym enough/with how i look. i've traded one drug for another.

*i know i do.

i listen to mary chapin carpenter as i sit in the same coffee shop i spent so many sundays as an undergrad. sundays inevitably spent staring out the window, wondering and making up stories in my head about the people waiting for the bus at the corner, the people at the table next to me.

the things that make me feel good: running, spinning, walking, just walking, walking to walk, without music. walking to feel the muscles in my legs, walking to look at the houses and dogs staring out front windows, and old people sitting on their front steps, walking to see the life that surrounds me, these are my good habits. stewing and spinning these thoughts around my head are the ones i'm working on. 

holding my breath is one of the worst ways to go through life. i need to put those days behind me. days like today and the past few, i remind myself this will pass. this heaviness will pass. but it starts with me.

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