Month: July 2015

Tackle the Mountain.

I wasn’t noticed very often. Not by boys, not by men and not by male family members. I was never the hot one or the confident one or the sexy one but rather the friend of the girl who always had a boyfriend. Year after year, boys and men came into my life via her and I always wished it were me. Why wasn’t there any one coming to watch me dance?

I wish I could lead a normal life. I am like a school girl learning how to deal with her crush because physical touch makes me freak out. Maybe I became that loud, in-your-face, crude drunk so that I was finally something to someone – I was the one with the stories. Maybe I drew my attention from that and not from other things, like being good at something. I continued to do damage to myself that it is a way of life for me. How do I function in society, sober? How will I ever become comfortable with the touch of a man or enjoy sex, without drinking.

Maybe if I had of gained more attention in other, healthier forms, I wouldn’t be as dysfunctional today. Maybe if I were thinner, my self esteem and confidence would be higher thus leaving me to feel comfortable in my own skin and around others. I am a proud big girl, finally, and can appreciate who I am and what I look like but walking around, sitting, sleeping, talking, eating etc while having that reoccurring thought in your head “how do you see me?” is mentally exhausting. I wonder how people see me? Do they look at me and think disgust? I am now in a country that is so diverse that seeing people of all sizes and colours and shapes is the norm. Am I seen less horribly now?

How the fuck do I start to tackle this mountain?

Dear Diary.

I’ve been avoiding writing anything that sounds like a diary entry for a while now (I hate the sound of it).

Everyone thinks that I am having the best time of my life. I am happier than Korea, yes. I persist to call Korea The Hole. I am happy… I’m just… not? What would the adjective be for someone that feels happier and looks happier and sounds happier, doesn’t feel sad or depressed but is? What do you call someone who has been put right in the centre of their ultimate fear? Every day, I am surrounded by people. People are moving fast, they aren’t stopping, they aren’t talking. They’re moving, in large groups and in small spaces, from A to B. I have to close my eyes or avoid looking at faces as not to hyperventilate and to try and meander my way onto a train that is so crowded that I have to wait for two or three more to come by in order to get on.

I still believe that life is punishing me for never taking transport to visit my friends in Korea merely because the planning of it all made me too anxious.

Where do all of these people come from?

I haven’t gotten black-out drunk since I’ve arrived in England. I haven’t used sex as a tool to be wanted since I arrived in England. The two things that cause my happiness and depression. Is that why I feel neither?

I am considering AA, not because I am addicted to alcohol but I am addicted to the stamina and ability it gives me to get affection and love in any form. Is that the same thing? Am I then addicted to alcohol?

I’m counting the weeks – 1,2,3,4 until I can get away from here. I sat down on the black and white checked bathroom floor ten minutes after I should have left for work and I cried and breathed deeply and quickly. The day prior, tears were starting to form whilst being pushed up against the side of a subway door. Why do I think that I am the only person who is struggling in this fast-paced human infested small space? I don’t feel normal.

Picture It and Write.

Your insides are rotten with maggots and decomposing filth. I know you. I’ve seen you. I’ve witnessed your fucking demon-like character and animalistic rage. You will always be nothing. I envision you with your mouth on the curb, only to have your face shattered by my foot and when that day comes, in reality or in my dream – I’ll let go of all of my hate.