I have never felt so alone in my entire life. It feels like I went from having everything, a family, friends, a real life.. to having no one. People act scared of me, or grosed out by me, or just apathetic. I guess I should look at myself and try to figur out why - but I don't really even have the fight in me right now. Part of me is just like, fuck it.. I mean.. really. How serious can I take life when the end result is the same anyway? Someone on tv asked, i dont know who it was, Oprah maybe.. "If you knew you were dying in the next 10 minutes, what regrets would you have when you look back at your life".. ok.. I don't know if this makes me a sucky person or what, but I don't have a lot of regrets. I sometimes regret not doing better in school - but that would hardly matter if I were dying in ten minutes. SO that's a regret for the living. I regret fighting with my mom when I was a rotton teenager, but she told me, before she died, that all teenagers fight.. and she wasn't mad at me, so I guess I can let that regret go. I regret getting fat.. It's fucked my life in a lot of ways. Things that I would love to do are really off limits to me. This dude at work always talks about going to Hawaii and riding a bike down the side of a mountain. That sounds so awesome to me.. but I don't know if I could do it. (and there is the money issue... like, I can't just take off for Hawaii) I don't know if I even have the balls to try to do it even if all of the logistical shit was taken care of. As far as regrets go, the fat thing is a really big one. It encourages me to settle in life. Settle for a job where I won't have to wear dress clothes, settle for a filet-a-fish instead of something good for me, settle for lanefuckingbryant or casual big & fat male instead of the gap or old navy.. places that I'd actually like to buy clothes from. Even if I lost weight now - I'd be too old to wear a lot of things. Even tho part of me rejects that. It's not really about clothes. No.. not really at all. It's about being able to express my individuality and not look exactly like ever other fat dyke out there. Jeans and hoodies. Maybe mixin' it up with black jeans occasionally. I do love hoodies tho... but I would love to be able to transform myself for an evening like skinny people can. Just once be fabulous.. Beautiful. I don't know. I suppose I regret the fat because I regret missed experiences. I love going to the theatre, not so much the movie theatre, because I still go there... but the real theatre. Rent was in town and I missed it. I hear that it sucked anyway.. hahah, but I still would have liked to make that decision myself. It's hard to only live vicariously - i hear stories of fun and almost feel like I were there, but I rarley ever am. Eating out at a resturaunt can be fun, I guess, in theory.. but the thrill is gone for me. Even Mongolian BBQ which, is a pretty cool resturaunt, has lost it's appeal. People assume that fat people LOVE food.. damn I wish I really loved it, instead of loving/hating/despising/resenting/needing it. I do feel like it can act like a warm hug or a pat on the back. I do feel like it helps temporarily - but it's so shallow. All it can do for me is this one thing. All it can do is make me feel full and sedated.. and lemmie tell ya, sedated is good in my world sometimes. I did low carb for a little over a week and then weighed myself and there was no change. I was so upset that I went into K-Mart and bought a box of fiddle faddle and some apple cider. Both, VERY HIGH CARB... It was like I needed the fix. It was like "FUCK IT, I have deprived myself of you for WHAT? for WHAT?"... ya know.. it was a bad thing. I SCARFED the fiddle faddle like I was a crazy person, hurt my finger trying to get the apple cider open, glugged it all down.. It was terrible. I did all of this with tears streaming down my face. I hated what I was doing, and at the same time I felt releaved. It felt comfortable to be back to what felt so natural to me. Right after I did it I wanted to puke.. I didn't, because I didn't want to risk getting puke on my shirt before going back to work, and because it always scares me that if I start puking it will feel too easy to let myself do it again, and then I will be one of those anorexics who are FAT to boot. Damn that is tragic. Can you imagine being an anorexic and not even getting to be skinny? This really happens. I think I seen that on Oprah, too. Yes I have a job - I just TIVO Oprah. So yeah.. so I didn't puke it up.. I just went back up to work feeling like I failed, like I was a complete loser, like I can't do anyhting right. But the next day I started over. Back on low carb. It makes me feel more sane overalll. Right now I'm not feeling real sane tho. I feel like no one cares if I exist. No one askes how I'm doing, no one cares. I feel invisible. I walk through my life and no one sees me - except the mc donalds girl that noticed that I switched from buying chicken strips to double cheese burgers. I throw out the bun. It's probably the most disgusting thing a person can eat, but it's cheap and low carb. Very grose. So yeah, she seems to see me... not like she'd pleased, or that she likes me, more like she's analyzing me out of a morbid interest. Sometimes her intensity is a bit to much for me though. It's not like a mcdonalds worker has never seen a fat person buy double cheeseburgers... yet she stares at me like I am such a novelty. Maybe she's not thinking anything about me being fat - maybe she wonders why I always go to the same mcdonalds, at the same time, with different hairstyles every day. My hair looks different every day no matter what I do to it. Sometimes I look like I'm somebody's grandma and sometimes I like it. There's no predicting it. Today it looks slightly greesy in an almost intentional way. When I looked in the mirror on my way to work I thought I loooked a little like I was strung out on meth. My eyes were bloodshot and puffed up.. red.. hair kinda stringy and greasy. It's not a good day for me. I woke up feeling the most intense despair I can remember feeling in a while. I feel so alone. I see my mom in my dreams, I hear her laughter, I feel her, and then I wake up.. and it kicks me in the gut. The realization that it was just a stupid dream - that she's gone, and will be forever, and I'm suppose to live on when all th joy has been sucked out of life. Everyone has changed so much. I don't even know my dad anymore, he's so different, like an irritating teenager. I love him, sure, but he's not the same person he used to me. I suppose none of us are. I just want to wake up right now and realize that this was the longest, most fucked up nightmare I had ever had, and have it really be three years ago. I want to wake up and look down and see that I am wearing the nightgown that I gave to goodwill last year, see my old cat Cricket at my feet, hear the phone ringing and the answring machine pick up, and hear my mom's voice souding so happy because her bloodwork came back positive and there is no more cancer in her system. I would give ANYTHING TO WAKE UP to that. But the reality is, I wake up to a dead cat and a dead mom, stepping down into the pile of filth I have around my bed. I disgust myself sometimes. I have, all around my side of the bed, dirty glasses and food wrappers and mangled papers and magazines and dirty shorts from this summer, complete filth. I think about cleaning it sometimes.. but thats as far as it goes. I think about it, then roll over and watch some tv. I guess I'm not going to wake up and have everthing be okay. I guess that's not going to happen. I guess I should clean tomorrow, but.. I could also borrow The L Word on DVD from my boss and watch it in preperation for Sunday's premier of season two. Damn I don't know how to live anymore. Who knew that it would get so hard? I guess it makes sense, when I zoom out of myself and look at it from a wider perspective, but right now it's really hard to even imagine that things can get better. I can't imagine anthing that would make life better, except turning back time. I'm not in a very healthy place.
