04/01/2012

Sleeping is absolutely miserable.  I just can’t fucking do it.  I go to bed, and I lie there for an hour or two, finally fall asleep, sleep until 3:00 in the morning, and then I wake up.  No more sleeping after that.  I wake up feeling worse than when I went to bed, and it’s tiring me the fuck out.

But I’ll continue to get up early and do responsible things like exercise and laundry. 

Sister and her idiot fiancé routinely go to bed 2 hours before me and get up 2 hours later than I do.  Is that much sleeping normal?  Maybe it’s just my envy that makes it seem excessive and…rude.  Or, maybe they’re having a lot of sex.  But that’s far too gross for me to even think about.

So. fucking. tired.

Idiot fiancé finally hung the punching bag he bought over 6 months a year ago.  I’ve spent about half an hour to forty-five minutes a day beating on it.  It’s…cathartic.  My arms and legs hurt today, but I’ve found it’s something I actually have fun doing.  I was considering printing out a picture of idiot fiancé’s face and taping it to the bag, but I thought that might be awkward to explain.

I wish I didn’t feel guilty every time I ate something.  Guilt is one of my biggest “triggers” for self-injury.  It’s one of the few emotions I can identify.  I don’t like…feeling.  Anything.

I don’t think I have an eating disorder.  I just feel like a fat, disgusting, pathetic, worthless piece of shit every time I consume anything.  It doesn’t stop me from eating, and it doesn’t make me throw up afterwards.  That’s bad for your teeth, after all, and I have enough issues in the department without puking a couple of times a day.

If only feeling guilty burned calories.

ANYWAY, I’ve been “normal” for a whole two weeks now.  Except for the not sleeping, and the self-loathing, and the usual slew of shit that’s going wrong.  I think I’m going to celebrate my two weeks of normalcy by going to bed and not sleeping.