3/14/17

there's a nor'easter raging outside.  it's just past 5am, and i have been awake for several hours.  after a streak of not drinking and not consuming caffeine, i'm back on the grind.  i'm going to stop starting today, i think.  it doesn't make me feel good.  i feel bloated, though i'm not sure if that's from guilt or from not taking care of myself.  my belly, the last frontier of my insecurities, still protrudes.  no one else notices but me, but i am paranoid that people are noticing.

i'm not supposed to use this space to write in any sort of coherent sense.  i've always written weird poems here.  but i guess this isn't a time like that.  i guess i'm not able to think so poetically anymore.  don't hide behind words, huh?  yeah, it's something like that.

i've always been a person who has been anxious about every little thing.  i remember even as a child i would pick one thing to knead and poke and prod and pour endless amounts of time into one single subject that wasn't really worth getting upset about.  it was some weird sort of release for me.  i could channel every ounce of negative energy i had into something that i thought was at least a little worthwhile.  then again, i've always found that punishing myself was a worthwhile activity.  i don't know why.  i need to stop that.

[i wrote this 2/23/16.  i think i'm gonna start writing in this stupid thing again.  it's been too long since i had some kind of anonymous outlet.]