Love Bites

Why does listening to this song make me feel lonely?

Right now I just feel lonely, useless, and wasted. Not wasted in the sense of inebriation -- wasted in the sense that I'm a waste of a human being...why am I here, God? Why did you put me here? What do you want me to do? And if I'm doing it right now by saving this little girl from her stupid fucking mother, then why don't You give me the fulfillment that I need and want so desperately?

This is where my eating behaviors come into play. Right now I just want to numb out and stop feeling this fucking loneliness, this wastefulness, this boredom, this void. I want to fill it up. Seems the only way to fill it up sometimes is to stuff it full of ice cream, until I feel bloated and full. But that just goes away, so that doesn't fucking work, does it?

So sometimes I try alcohol -- presently I have little to no tolerance, so that works satisfactorily sometimes...only after Phrecklette is in bed though. I don't want to be a lush while she's around...DUH. But I know that if it ever got out of control, it would destroy me. Alcohol is not good for anyone in my family. And it's harder to resist it when you live alone and you're relying solely on yourself all the time, and you have a lot of alone-time after that child is in bed.

And you look forward and you see the day when that child will be ripped out of your home and placed with her stupid excuse of a mother (god I hope she never reads this). I love my sister but she will never be a satisfactory mom. She's got her own demons to battle. Why did I ever tell her about this blog? Guess it's not really that different than her telling me about her blog and then reading about how much she hates me on it. Difference is -- I don't hate my sister and I never have. I love her, but she has to figure out her life. I don't have the energy to help her enough. So she's on her own, unfortunately.

The feeling of worthlessness fuels my desire to eat, to drink, and to spend excessively. Only by doing those three things do I get any peace in my head. It's a lot easier to ignore how you feel when you're fresh from the excitement of something yummy to eat, or something new to wear, or work on, or some new place to go, or that feeling that you're wealthy because you're going places and doing things...never mind what you're going to do to pay that $71.00 that's going to come out of your checking account on the 24th. Or the checks you made out to Paycheck Advance when you were feeling particularly shitty and were burying yourself in the world of Shabby Chic so you don't have to face that you're getting ever fatter, after having worked your ass off to lose 140 pounds.

And you're sitting there wishing you were anorexic so you could stop fucking eating...or at least find a new obsession to keep your mind off your old crutch. Anything to help me escape and forget and just make it stop. You get so damned tired of always having to try and be normal...you curse your mom and dad for fucking you up and you wish you could just have had a fairly normal childhood so you wouldn't be like this. But all that wishing is pretty damned futile isn't it? Because no one has a time machine, least of all you, you poor unfortunate fool, so why don't you just quit whining?

Every time you pass by the bathroom mirror, you look at your profile and you realize your ass is getting bigger again. And your double chin is back. And you don't feel like washing your goddamned hair...you don't feel like bathing. In fact, that bath you had last Wednesday was the first in probably about a month. But you are good at covering that up because you're so practiced at feeling unworthy and shitty. So you wash your hair, you put on your clean, ironed clothes, you put on your makeup and some snazzy accessories, and you think no one notices, but you know that deep down, they probably have their antennae up and have detected something wrong with your sorry ass.

You sit here and you wonder...what the fuck is wrong with me?