Somewhere in between my last post and now, I stopped caring. I stopped caring about life. I stopped caring about me. I stopped caring for me. I did stupid things; I let the voices back in. And somehow, I stopped caring about it. Even when I was able to shut them up, I didn’t. Because I didn’t care anymore. And now what? I’m not sure. I can pretend to want get things back on track again. I can pretend to care. Is that of any use ,though? Haven’t I pretended enough in my life, yet? Is it all not already one big facade? I used to joke I’d chosen the wrong career/education path, since I would make a damn fine actress. But I’m not sure if I still find this funny. I am fed up with starting over. So fed up, that somewhere this past week I decided I wasn’t gonna do it again. Start over. But not with the right connotation. Not in a way to make it the last time to make a fresh start, no; in a way to just stop caring alltogether. When you don’t care, at least you can’t get disappointed either, right? Well, wrong. I’m disappointed in the fact I’ve let it get this far, disappointed in the fact I’ve given up. I no longer recognize the girl in the mirror. Not just the physical aspect; I’ve ballooned out, none of my stuff fits anylonger and I feel like a sausageroll on legs. I also don’t recognize the girl inside anymore. They say eyes are the mirror to the soul, but I had my check-up last week (yes, I wear glasses/contacts) and both eyes went down another .25. If even my eyes are deteriorating, what does that say about what they are supposed to mirror then? My mask has grown attacked to my face, and taking it off will leave a bleeding, scarred mess. I no longer recognize the mask, but I’ve also grown terrified of what is left underneath. It must have started to rot a long time ago. ED stinks, anyone starting recovery can probably vouch for that (and so can anyone within a few feet distance of someone starting recovery as well, I’m afraid…. ), but I’m afraid ED has left its imprints on me so deeply, that the damage cannot be undone. That the open wounds it left me with have gotten infected.
I know I have to give my self-fulfilling prophecy thing another kickstart. I know I have to grow up. I need to get things back on track, finalize the move, catch up on Uni stuff, go back out and socialize again, stop bingeing and silence the voices by doing all this. I know I have to. I just need a little divine intervention to make me want to again. But, where do they have thát on sale?