ThisAnxietyInsideOfMe

Struggles.
Something I have become numb to,
Acustomed to.
However I still see new hints of madness on the horizon.
I have settled into my most favorite diesease and embraced my dear Ana.
She lingers on my lips, behind my teeth, in the back of my throat.
The pit of my stomach.
Guilt fills my soul as I even think about
Skin and Bones are my love, my life.
Down five pounds in one week.
By next week hoping to be down ten total.
And hopefully 15 in three weeks.

Destined love of Ana.
A love undeadly.
Immortal.
A disease of the mind and body.
It is a disease.
It's not as easy as saying "Stop" or wanting to stop.
Impossible.

I sort of want to curl into a bawl.
Wither.
Disapear.
Die.
Only sometimes.
WinterDepression is what they call it.
The end.

This anxiety inside of me is taking conrol.
Breaking me free from all I know.
Xany is my bestfriend tonight, all of three.
Goodnight Winter Wind.

fxd

Vomiting.
 Comfort in the shakes.
Weak.
More water.
Disease.
Shaking.
Fuzzy blanket on bare skin.
Naked beneath.
Shaking. Heat up all the way.
Fucked.

attention.

Craving attention... never a good thing.
Can't help it though.
 Human nature?

goalsss

Goals:
Eat raw...if at all.
Workout until nauseous and light headed.
Have a sexy body by the end of Feb.
Disgusting right now.
Yoga.
Running.
Sweat.
FuckingGo.

motto 2013

Eye opening experiences
 Bettering my life and the lives of others.
 Motto for 2013 is: Pay It Forward

new orleans ....

Haunting dreams three nights in a row...
Lonely.
Tired.
Must get out of this funk.

Happy I'm giving back though :) that feels good!

I wish on a shooting star for a good dream
Wish I may I wish I might...

Teapot

Empty moments consume my tired eyes,
Routine becomes broken down into that of distaste.
Wrapped in a warm blanket in my living room,
the soft touch reminds me where my heart is.

I sit here and write in hopes to escape momentarily.
A package arrived today,
The wonders that little brown box held.
Fairy tales skipped out of it, onto a shelf in my kitchen.

A little teapot,
Hand painted,
With stories told, that I know by heart,
Words spilled curiosity on the spout.
Beautiful. Colorful.
A reminder that she is still there.

I smile, yet my eyes remain weary.
Sleep is all I long for,
Yet in twenty nine minutes I shall head to work.
Until the night breaks me from this hell.

I shall return to the warm of this very spot I sit,
To write, to listen, to reminisce.

Such a beautiful porcelain teapot.