the end of the beginning

so i used to blog. endlessly. annoyingly. well. actually i used to journal. i used to put pen to paper and write to my little heart's content. and then i stopped. and started again and stopped again and eventually switched to online 'blogging' (i used to hate that word a lot. now i'm ambivalent. to me it isn't journaling and chronicling if it's not on paper. this feels less authentic)...oh the livejournal days that were mostly spent updating from journalism class in 1999 and learning how to do annoying HTML marquees to entertain myself and the people on my friends list. but eventually it was more about catering to the audience of my blog or being hyperaware that what i said was not just for me it was for the world and while there were privacy settings...it just became too troublesome and i abandoned it altogether. then i decided to 'get back to my roots' and start journaling (not blogging!) on a regular basis because it was more real when i wrote it down. but like everything i abandoned it eventually. that journal still sits in the bottom drawer of my dresser alone and sad like most things. but everyone i know is blogging so i feel compelled.

i'm upset with myself for how much i allowed myself to be manipulated and changed by the people i worked with. i'm now in a positive environment and i am trusted and respected and i'm still waiting for someone to yell at me until i cry. i still hear my boss' voice in my head saying some assy thing or wrongly assuming the reason i was tired was because i was hungover. just because he gets drunk and lost company property (with no punishment) somehow means that everyone is on the same level of deviance. but anyway this new job is so amazing. and the amazing paycheque certainly helps.

so far in the last 2 weeks i've had food poisoning, the flu and re-tore the ligaments in my right ankle. it's been quite unpleasant. but i spent £6.50 on potter's cough syrup (the elixir of gods) and it has yet again worked its magic and ceased my cough. why the hell did i waste £2.50 on vick's cough syrup? i have a headache from coughing so much, my small small brain is constantly being slammed against the front of my skull and it's entirely unpleasant.

it's weird to think that i'm in charge now in my job. i make decisions and the consequences rest on my shoulders. people look to me to set and enforce policy not just abide by it. it's awe inspiring. and amusing. i feel like i'm not quite the most responsible or trustworthy of people (although my list of deviances is pitifully small) and i can't believe i've jumped this far in my career so quickly.

today i was powerless over the wafting wiles of subway. i feel guilty. i feel guilty for being a size 16 (US size 12) instead of a size 8 (US size 4). althoguh i can't really recall a time in my life i was an 8 but i can recall when i was a 10 and i look in the mirror and cry. and then i eat to make myself feel better and then i cry again. except i keep taking 'positive steps' to improving my body, eating better, exercise but it's life's cruel joke that pounds pile on quickly and take forever to get rid of. i daydream of having a coke addiction or an eating disorder because to me thin is happy. as far as i'm concerned skinny people have no problems. they're just happy and beautiful and perfect. unlike me where all i see is imperfection. my face could be more clear. my hair could be less copper. i could magically rid myself of cellulite. i bet the leggy 18 year old accountant next to me (can you believe she was born in 1990??) has no idea what it feels like to develop a rash between your thighs because they touch when you walk and your skin is so sensitive that if your skin comes into contact with other parts of your skin repeatedly in a rubbing manner that you get a rash. or hives. or something decidedly unpleasant.

it's upsetting to me that in the past week i've gotten every single thing i've wanted all year long (amazing job, 3x louboutin shoes, 19 bottles of nail polish, swanky flat iron) because i had a severance bonus from PRUPIM that allowed for it. but yet i feel empty. blah. quiet and alone. partly i'm sure because i haven't had a chance to engorge myself on these beautiful material posessions and partly because i feel guilty for wanting nice things or spending a lot of money on myself because i feel unworthy. i suffered for a year at a job that nearly broke me and i escaped into something amazing and i rewarded myself hugely and i want for absolutely nothing. yet i'm empty. my words are gone i have no poetry left. i have nothing in life. i feel like i've accomplished nothing. what do i have to show? i have 2 degrees and a beautiful boyfriend but somehow my life is not enough.

what is enough? the moment i reach a goal i set a new one. there's never any time to revel in accomplishments since it's always onto the next and the next. i suffer from the disney complex and feel pain when i realise steve's inadequacies. even if they're only my insecurities being forced onto him by my half addled mind.

where am i going? where have i been? is it enough? why am i doing this and not that? what would my life be like if i went left instead of right? will i ever lose this weight? will i ever be happy? will i ever just shut the hell up!?