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I appear to have lost the ability to write.

There are so many things to say, but no words left to say them with. And would any of it matter, in any case?

Something tells me no.
Something tells me no.

The world is a funny place, ruled by headlines.
Don't tell me what to think anymore because I've lost the ability to think for myself.

I can't seem to get rid of him, despite his being gone and completely disconnected.
I'm still holding onto the fight that he installed in me. I'm still struggling against the things we haven't talked about for two years.
And it kills me. Slowly. Hatefully.

What do you do when you have no idea what to do? When there's no easy way to do anything?

For the first time in my life, I was feeling good about my body. I wasn't as ashamed of it as I typically had been. I'd been exercising every day. EVERY DAY. That was a rather large undertaking for me, seeing as how the most exercise I'd gotten up until the age of 13 was swimming. I hate "sports". I hate competing. I hate running. I hate sweating. I hate being sore. That, and everything I do, I do like a sissy...and I hate being made fun of. I didn't grow up somewhere progressive where I could just shrug my shoulders and say "oh well...get over it". I had to deal with it. I had to be talked about at churches and behind closed school doors.

I was wearing smaller jeans than I'd worn in high school. I was getting attention. I was feeling better. I was eating better. I was moving. And I met someone who'd been going to the gym and lost a ton of weight, too. He was still a little chubster, but the intent was there.

That all changed quickly. My attempts at exercise, within a month of living together, were met with interrogation about who I was working out to impress. I wasn't allowed to not be hungry or want to wait for a healthier option. I had to eat when he was hungry and I had to eat what he was hungry for, which usually consisted of fried food. I gave up that fight so quickly because I was tired of the competition. I can't believe I let it go on for so long. I can't believe I let it get as bad as it did. I tired to stifle the fight, to reduce resistance so it would be a smoother ride. The exact opposite happened. Everything snowballed. There is no other option but to snowball when you're on a downward slope.

He took a picture of me from behind, once, and then I saw it. It broke my heart. I was sitting at the desk and I didn't recognize myself. at all. Who was that lardass sitting there in front of the computer? Oh right...that's my shirt and my hat and my beard. That's me.

"Well, stop eating like that and start exercising again."

It's not that easy. I've come down quite a bit naturally, but it's going to take some work to get further. And I want to make that effort and go that extra step to being back where I feel good. But I have no idea where to get that energy from. He wore me out. He broke something in me. Something that can be fixed or replaced...but I'm still just so angry about all of it. So sad about all of it. So disappointed in myself for all of it.

It wasn't just avoiding his temper or his stupid rules when I caved in. I was punishing myself. I was so pissed at my lack of a spine, at how quickly I drank the kool-aid, at how much things had changed, at how my friendships were affected, at how my family life was affected, at how my life had become about doing everything for him...when he's the last person I should've done anything for.

There's still a ball of anger and bitterness and frustrtation sadness that's buried way down deep inside of me that I need to somehow expel or have surgically removed.

On that note, I have to go exercise and eat vegetables now.

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
brokn2pieces
May. 4th, 2011 04:13 am (UTC)
hi
matty_mcphat
May. 4th, 2011 05:01 am (UTC)
I feel weird not being able to "like" or "retweet" this...
sandor_baci
May. 4th, 2011 01:27 pm (UTC)
I'm sorry, Matty --
-- the things we wind up carrying...

Food is so tightly plaited with love.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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