Blue cup. Masking Tape. Silver Pen.

There are times in life when you just want to stay inside.

You want to shelter yourself from the outside world, and simply exist amongst your own familiar surroundings without anyone judging you for what you appear to be. The walls block out everything you don't want to hear, or not hear.

I write each of these words with trepidation. . .

They're slowly spilling themselves out into this blog...thoughtfully. I'm hoping I don't make a mistake. I'm hoping that this will make some sense.

But back onto the subject at hand...

I don't feel like I need to hide most of the time.

Lately I've just been wondering, "what's wrong with me?"

But now I KNOW.

I feel disgusting.
All the water in the world won't save me now (the water never worked, trust me). The water lost it's meaning and power...and chokehold over me...years ago. The water does not make me feel good.

It's the way that number can dictate your life...that's so ridiculous. They're just numbers...but they mean so much more. They made me feel like shit in Advanced Maths Yr 9 and 10. They make me feel like shit in Chem. They make me feel like shit when they tell me I've gained back nearly half the weight I fought to lose when I was 13.
But it's not the numbers fault.
I can't really blame it on them...it would seem rather silly.
It's my fault.

I live with this brain, I live with this body, and in this skin and with these consequences that derive from my actions.

I try so hard, not to be a failure.
But not hard enough.
Definitely, not hard enough.

I'm never satisfied. It's so contradicting however...that the rounded stomach and the thighs that touch are comforting sometimes...