I didn't weigh myself at the pool today. They have a fancy scale in the locker room right after the showers, and you can stand naked on it, because everyone in the locker room is naked. That way you don't have to feel guilty about the wieght from wearing clothes.
Clothes don't count anyway. Everyone knows we have skin underneath.
I wanted to weigh myself, but I didn't. Sometimes I think progress comes faster when you keep checking back. Sometimes I check my Facebook more than 10 times a day, just to see if anyone has told me that I'm brilliant yet.
But I've only checked it 4 times today. Maybe I should check again.
Today, I didn't weigh myself. Tomorrow I won't find out if I'm brilliant. I've just got to trust when I say that it doesn't make anything go faster, besides my patience. I've got to trust before they put me on pills or lock me up somewhere there isn't anything to check up on.
I feel like my good friend Vincent O'Brien. I like to pretend that I'm good friends with fictional characters. It makes me feel like I'm friends with more important people. I think the imaginary people are some of the most important ones. I worry sometimes that I know too many of them.
I wonder also, if I'll ever be able to write without being depressed first. When was the last thing I wrote?
3 months ago.
Sounds about right.
Progress. Checking won't make it faster.
I hope I get myself together soon.
1 comment:
You're supposed to do better if you don't weigh yourself every day. Just like once a week. I had to hide the scale to make myself stop. Telling myself I'm not going to do something makes me want to do it that much more...
My best friends are fictional. They're the only ones who understand me and my piles of books, of my need to escape to other worlds. Anne Elliot, self-conscious introvert. Charlotte Lucas, an old maid at 27. Josey Cirrini, failed Southern Belle. My best friends are wilted blossoms, the Mia Thermopolis' of books who don't turn out to be a princess in the end.
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