In the Beginning...

You know, everyone needs a purpose, both long and short termed ones.
Right now, I'm feelin a bit lost as to what the hell I'm doing this for. It sure isn't because I expect people to actually read my stuff, cause this isn't really all that interesting, but then, why did I start this whole journal thingy?
Call me a loner, I wont deny it, but don't be under the pretense that I'm actually cool. Cause that I most definitely am NOT. So could this be a self pity thing? Maybe. But not entirely, I guess I'm just lost. That's all.
And for once it's not cause I'm busy daydreaming. You see...I'm suffering -no, that's not right- I'm RECOVERING from a serious bout of Anorexia Nervosa. By now, with all that media hype, I'm sure everyone knows what that is right? If you don't, I'll keep it simple. Basically it's when a person gets it in his/her head (most often her) that they should stop eating and start starving.
You cannot begin to imagine the shit that ends up happening to you. Or the crap that you end up having to endure for it. Right now I'm so screwed over I might as well be dead. First there's the 'help' groups, then there's the freaking counsellors, and don't forget the nutritionist and doctors. Between all of that crap you lose yourself somewhere. And it starts to all feel disjointed, like, this can't possibly be me; the one who gets the Honour Roll and straight A's; the one always in control, always at the head.
One day, you wake up and there it is; you hardly recognize the person staring blankly back at you. And it makes you think how it all came down to this. Between all of that, I kinda lost my sense of what 'normal' is. Honestly, if you ask me right now I wouldn't be able to tell you how normal people live. Heck, I don't even know what to do with my 'un-normal' life right now.
My little 'problem' is my little hell on earth, sometimes it makes me wish I wasn't alive cause I don't see the point of it anymore. But, yet, somehow...I'm still here, bitching my way into the blogoshpere.
And inflicting my depressive anger on the world.

Buried

Let me out.
I’m trapped inside,
I can’t break through,
going down
in my own
mind.
Black.
Bare.
Bleak.
Guilt claws at my neck
choking me
so I can’t breathe.
I see the window.
I see the way.
But the leaden
manacles
drag me back
down.
Icy.
Empty.
Lonely.
Dungeon.
I’m in that coffin
being sent back down
to earth,
wrapped in a feeling
that’s
killing me.