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[musically-dreaming]

4.11.2019

I woke up this morning wishing I could never wake up

I sat with my coffee and for a good hour, I tried to regain any remaining ounces of energy

I realised I once again lost hope

Not because I do something wrong - the major I picked is great. I wanna learn French. I enjoy learning French.

So I can't no longer say Ive picked a wrong major and I would be happy if I changed it. No. I'm there. I've changed the major to the right one. Yet I still have no motivation to live

I wonder around thinking on the importance of things. Try to take everything with a fresh pair of eyes. I really wanna see beauty in the world. And I do. But it might not be enough to stay in it.

I get to see a puppy, and it makes me very happy. But that lasts only for one happy moment. All the others are rather miserable.

I wish I didn't have to feel both.

Today many people told me I had beautiful eyes. One person even said that because of my heterochromia I was special.

Was that something I was supposed to take with myself and carry it in case I need it?

Or was it just to make sure that I really don't care about any of it and it still doesn't matter at all?

I laughed to myself. If they only knew how much I wished my eyes were just normal greyish blue color. And how this morning I really wished I was dead

[musically-dreaming]

Diary from my weight loss

I just found my old diary entries. I wrote them to myself few months back, just when everything was getting worse.

02.19.2019

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So therapy is nothing to be ashamed of. You should do it. Especially when depression is the only thing ruining your happiness. But when you exist just because you are not dead, that is a tricky situation. Why bother? And more importantly, why try to keep a person alive when they will just keep being miserable? I mean "thank u, stranger for smiling at me, I didn't kill myself thanks to you" and then what? I was cured, my reality became amazing all of the sudden?

I am not ok.

Should we keep one alive for the system or just because we like to feel better about ourself for being a "good" person?

I keep wondering, when it's gonna be the one that actually drives me to doing it. It's fucking scary, so scary, and that is why I've never done anything. But when things are decent for a while and then it hits you, it is truly unbearable. It's so easy to forget how dead you can feel, when you have a moment of relief. And then it all comes back. The tiredness, the sonder, all the thoughts. For example, I've spent the majority of today thinking of how fat, disgusting and overall ugly I am. The month of being great now feels like a complete lie. Maybe it was all in my head, nothing had changed and I was just (for the first time) believing my own lie? Staying in the topic, I've tried soo many hairstyles. I've had so many colors on my head. I've come to realisation today - no hairstyle is gonna do it for me. I am just ugly. And I am just not good enough to have something even remotely close to happiness. 22, I'm counting days.

Just because. Or maybe not. Why? I've been on a diet. No, not diet. That's a bad way of calling it. Basically I started eating well and exercising quite a lot. I'm almost a month and a half in and it's been challenging but also nice and made me feel good, like I wanna continue doing that.

Literally, my depression, or whatever you wanna call it is almost gone, mentally I feel much, much better, I feel like I'm leaner, cause my clothes are loose and they fit better. I've had 2 binges. Not much above my tedee, so that is also a success. I didn't want to weight myself at first, because I know how discouraging it can make me feel. So I was like "ok, slow, steady. Count days, not weight"

But since I started, originally, probably like 7 yrs ago, I've always wanted to weight 50 kgs. That was my ideal goal, I never got to reach. The mistical land on the scale when everyone is nice to you and the world is unicorns and rainbows as you conquer it like a true badass. But this time I thought to myself, that I should aim for health. Specially, the mental one, cause it's been tough for the past years. I was right. Just the action of caring about myself, in form of eating well, taking time to exercise, it really cleared my head. To be honest, I don't remember the last time I've felt this good just overall. But the time has come. In my head I did all the math I needed, when I weighted x my clothes fit me that, and now I dare to say they fit me better than they did, so that must mean weight loss = progress, right?

I got anxious, but mostly enthusiastic, I couldn't sleep the night before, I was ready to finally step on the scale. Wasn't gonna do that often, but I just got confident. I woke up, uneasy how to feel about it. If I could I would've taken a laxative to be as light as possible. I didn't, that's unhealthy (and I need to remind myself of being healthy). I stepped on a scale. And it showed the heaviest weight I've ever seen on myself. "But my clothes are loose,. I could swear, I look better", "was it all a lie and my eyes were just deceiving me this whole time?"

So it got to me. Wasn't prepared for a change in that direction. Got discouraged, my eyes watered. I'm proper fat, the month of hard work was for nothing. You know, the weather is all grey, I'm fat, just, let's say it was not the most positive morning.

I cried a little, I would've been less surprised seeing that number at the start. And yet I was very dedicated and I'm there now.

So it got me thinking. I measure my worth by  my weight. How much that number controls me. I was feeling great and now I started  thinking that I had no right to, because I'm not a certain number on a scale. I've had a lot of success in my music career, whatever you wanna call it. In middle school and high school. I think the peak was in middle school and also at that time I got to my lightest weight. And yet, in my head I was still inferior to the rest of the world because I wasn't at my ideal weight. Literally everytime was on stage I just kept thinking, how ugly I must look, cause I am fat. That thought evently led to me leaving that passion. I was so insecure that I started to hate performing. I still hope one day I could go out and make a proper career out of it, but it's just a little spark. It's faded because of my weight. And I can't tell you how many times after I'd had a nice time with friends I would overanalyze every moment to determine whether or not people actually liked me and had fun with me. I would spend hours because a) I'm too fat to be happy and me being fat makes me boring to  others and b) others probably find me pathetic cause I'm fat so I'm funny. Not in a good way.

This is fucking heartbreaking. I've been controlled for the majority of my life by a number on a scale. And even if I was happy for a while, after I've stepped on a scale I just felt like I should wipe it all off, cause it was just mind playing tricks on me. I don't weight 50 kgs, so I don't deserve to be happy. I don't weight 50 kgs so there's something wrong with me. My life should not be measured by the number I see on a scale. And yet, I'm ready to drop the healthy habits just to confide to my best friend and also worst enemy - food. The last time I binged, it wasn't even bad food necessarily, I felt so depressed it was just scary. I can't go back to that. Gotta hold on. Somewhere along the way the weight has to drop if I keep on doing what's right.