Wednesday, August 28, 2013

thoughts and whispers

summer is supposed to be a magical time of year when the world is warm, happy, full of light. we all dream of that perfect summer romance, meeting some hunk at summer camp who happens to be a deep thinker and compassionate lover. someone who isn't meant to stay forever but who provides a lesson in love and a heartfelt goodbye.

well, my summer wasn't magical. my summer romance was a disaster. i don't know what i am supposed to have learned other than boys lie.

i fell for dakotah the day we met. he told his ex to shove it, and i stopped talking to drew. we moved in together, we fell in love, his family treated me like one of their own. the four days that i was in The Forest so far away from him brought us even closer upon my return. he made me feel more self-assured and encouraged me to eat, saying i would be perfect with curves. he helped me come to terms with the abortion to an extent, even made me feel comfortable with the idea of having a child with him. then, out of nowhere, he dropped me flat on my face. shattered my heart and broke my spirit.

i started cutting again. throwing up. popping diet pills like candy and working out all hours of the night. the less he acknowledged my existence, the quicker he forgot all i had, the deeper i descended into my self-destruction. i remember one night in particular my best friend had to talk me out of killing myself while i had a complete meltdown in my car in the middle of the night. i couldn't bear the aching loneliness in my heart. the hole left by the death of my baby was temporarily filled with dakotah's love. i still look at children and pregnant bellies with longing. after dakotah left, the pain returned.

going back to school has made things a little easier. the most important factor contributing to my semi-sense of ease was simply having access to the internet. i once again sought out the pro ana community for empathy and commendatory. when i'm scrolling through my anonymous twitter feed (@sickk_nikki) i am walking down my neighborhood street. each favorite a "hello," each retweet a friendly wave. picslips are the faces peeping from behind curtains, taking a peek outside. i am noticed here; my words matter.

lately i have been so consumed by thought, a constant babble of pretty words and articulated phrases. i feel that artistic craziness setting in, possibly from my new concoction of pills, but it drives me to pursue my goals, and to create. maybe it's true that artists have to suffer for their work, because what great works of art, what classic novels, what successful song releases have been written by happy, normal people?

i don't know why normal people were put on this earth, but maybe i'm not meant to be sane. because from insanity comes imagination. and there's so much inside this broken mind of mine.

who am i? who am i meant to be?

stay strong, think thin, live ana

((P.S. check out the link towards the end of this post, it's a really interesting article about the correlation between creativity and presence of a mental illness!))

1 comment:

  1. Stay strong my dear!!(: I'm here if you ever need me! <3 kik @ellemaria_


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