Get busy living, or get busy dying.

Almost February.

Somehow my life always seems to alternate between too many emotions and absolute emptiness. People always tell me that I'm a woman of extremes. One or the other, black or color, all or nothing. There's too much of me at the moment, and I want the complete opposite. I'll get there, and you will, too, my darlings.

 

Meanwhile, the days are passing by, one by one, and I'm disappearing slowly, ounce by ounce. Sometimes I wish I would disappear completely, but then I make myself think of how wonderful life will be once I'm thin, fragile and beautiful. 

Because one day, I will have succeeded. 

One day, I will be beautiful.

 

You know, my loves, it might seem like we have a very long and tiring journey ahead of us (and yes, we do indeed), but it is going to be worth the struggle in the end; the people who now criticize us (yes, dad, I saw the look of disgust you did not even try to hide as you watched me put a teaspoon of low-fat sour cream on my salad at dinner today) will have no other choice than to say:

 

This post is SO all over the place, I realize.

Well...

;)

Love you, my sweethearts.

Lu.

The less I needed, the better I felt.

 

 

My darlings, I feel like I need to take a second and elaborate a little on my previous post, just to explain myself a bit more. You know, it's always fascinated me how people tend to not see what they don't want to see- like the homeless in the streets, the drunken teens just below our windows on weekend nights, the drugs in schools that are so accessible to kids, or, in our case, our eating disorders.

I've learned both the hard way and through years of observation that we've become so oblivious to what other people are going through, so very blind towards those who really need us. We've learned to tell ourselves that we've toughened up, that nothing in the world can bring us down, that we've mastered the art of assertiveness, self-confidence and independence, but really, haven't we just become more ignorant?

Sometimes we do wish that the others could tell, but...

honestly, I have absolutely no idea what I would do if my parents actually found out (or admitted, not sure which one it is in my case) that I have been struggling with an eating disorder for almost three years, and just the pure thought of the pain they would certainly go through upon the realization brings me back to the good old proverb (one that I have been living according to for quite a few years now) what the eye doesn't see the heart doesn't grieve.

And maybe we all just realize there's too much suffering, too much agony, too many disappointments and let-downs in life that we've taught ourselves to not see simply to shelter ourselves from more pain.

But they love me, I've never doubted that.

And I love them, with all my heart and all my soul; 

and I will love them as long as I breathe.

It's not their fault.

 

 I love you.

Lu.