August.
Fuck.
Again, I meant to update sooner, and I do have various entries saved... just not posted.
I had been puking for three days straight on my last update... and still puked the next day. Four consecutive days, in total.
It wasn't my usual vomit-fest, where I throw up for hours, non-stop. This time around, I'd just randomly find myself violently vomiting ONE time, usually during workouts (that Thursday, August 1st, was particularly brutal... I puked in the middle of some jumping jacks during kickboxing. They should just nickname me something having to do with barfing, since I've puked in that class at least three other times. I'm classy).
I hate that I have to be so visceral. I wish I could control it... but I know something has truly affected me when I find my head stuck in a toilet after something upsets me... or I'm fainting all over the place like some histrionic little bitch in victorian novels.
It's not that I want to-- it just happens. This is what happens when I bottle my rage... when I take a deep breath and walk away from something that has driven me completely irate... when I am "zen" instead of doing what my body really wants to do: break someone's face against some concrete.
This is what happens when AnoMALIE tries to "act like a lady."
It takes a lot to get me to that point-- to make me physically ill.
It takes even more to lower me from that state.
I tried meditating, but after thirty second of being unable to turn off my television in order to concentrate properly, I became agitated and broke the remote control... so I gave that shit up.
I drew... but they all ended in me scribbling everything off in a fit of rage.
I read... and that calmed me down, I guess.
I went on a MEAN retail therapy session... and purchased my first ever diamonds. And no, it didn't make me feel any better... I actually have the worst case of buyer's remorse right now... I might return them tomorrow... because... I learned I don't even care for REAL bling. At all.
Then we had work drama... THAT was interesting. Apparently a couple of employees got involved with a certain... criminal group... who... well, you know what part of Mexico I hail from, and what they're famous for... I guess these employees TRIED ripping THEM off for 200k... and I mean... good luck with that shit... dumb motherfuckers. I don't know you, you don't know me. Goodbye.
Then I did what I always do: I escape.
I booked another trip to a distant land... to be alone... away from everyone.
That's all I really know how to do-- run away, hide, and avoid feeling ANYTHING... it keeps me from projectile vomiting and becoming any more disillusioned with humanity... with the luck of my draw.
Fuck.
Again, I meant to update sooner, and I do have various entries saved... just not posted.
I had been puking for three days straight on my last update... and still puked the next day. Four consecutive days, in total.
It wasn't my usual vomit-fest, where I throw up for hours, non-stop. This time around, I'd just randomly find myself violently vomiting ONE time, usually during workouts (that Thursday, August 1st, was particularly brutal... I puked in the middle of some jumping jacks during kickboxing. They should just nickname me something having to do with barfing, since I've puked in that class at least three other times. I'm classy).
I hate that I have to be so visceral. I wish I could control it... but I know something has truly affected me when I find my head stuck in a toilet after something upsets me... or I'm fainting all over the place like some histrionic little bitch in victorian novels.
It's not that I want to-- it just happens. This is what happens when I bottle my rage... when I take a deep breath and walk away from something that has driven me completely irate... when I am "zen" instead of doing what my body really wants to do: break someone's face against some concrete.
This is what happens when AnoMALIE tries to "act like a lady."
It takes a lot to get me to that point-- to make me physically ill.
It takes even more to lower me from that state.
I tried meditating, but after thirty second of being unable to turn off my television in order to concentrate properly, I became agitated and broke the remote control... so I gave that shit up.
I drew... but they all ended in me scribbling everything off in a fit of rage.
I read... and that calmed me down, I guess.
I went on a MEAN retail therapy session... and purchased my first ever diamonds. And no, it didn't make me feel any better... I actually have the worst case of buyer's remorse right now... I might return them tomorrow... because... I learned I don't even care for REAL bling. At all.
Then we had work drama... THAT was interesting. Apparently a couple of employees got involved with a certain... criminal group... who... well, you know what part of Mexico I hail from, and what they're famous for... I guess these employees TRIED ripping THEM off for 200k... and I mean... good luck with that shit... dumb motherfuckers. I don't know you, you don't know me. Goodbye.
Then I did what I always do: I escape.
I booked another trip to a distant land... to be alone... away from everyone.
That's all I really know how to do-- run away, hide, and avoid feeling ANYTHING... it keeps me from projectile vomiting and becoming any more disillusioned with humanity... with the luck of my draw.
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