I went - and it was good.

Very, very good.

C and I laughed and traded barbs - I can't believe how fucking pale I've become - a ghost of my former self in many ways I guess. I decided not to weigh myself - I really don't want to know, I'll do it in four weeks. We're gonna go again on Saturday - C's making a pact with me to get back 4 days a week. Take it easy - make it fun - just get back to where I used to be.

I can't just get back the body I had.
I can't wish I would stop hurting over HERO's death.
I can't keep beating the mental shit out of myself.
I can't dread the rest of my life,
I can't keep all of this in to make my friends more comfortable.
I can't change my past.

I'm glad I felt a bit myself tonight, it was a good feeling.

alrighty - news alert - after a self-imposed, body-neglecting hiatus - I'm starting back to the gym tonight; it doesn't take Mr. Science to figure out that blowing off the gym for two months and investing that time in boozing, crap food etc. haven't done wonders for my morale or gotten me through this emotional rough period - at first I told myself that the aspect of replacing gym time with reading time would mean I was making a greater effort to enhance the inner me, but alas my inner-n-outer me are pretty much connected so if I look like I shit - I feel like shit. Ideally I just need to connect the two - start reading while I run at the gym (just hurts my brain)and feel like I'm feeding both beasts....and no Donald, no pictures will be posted til I, er - regain my girlish figure.

...sometimes I shut down for a little while - hold up on my couch with a varsity bumper up my nose and some Vodka in my belly and stop interacting, with this blog, my family, my friends...and in all viens I am plagued by the same feeling - talking about the pain - shuts people out.
 
But then there I sit, many layers deep in a K-hole, drunk and too messy to answer the phone - and the phone rings - and rings unanswered.
 
So here is how those states come about.
 
Lately I keep waking - usually around 4am, but then lately even earlier, no matter what a stupor I drink myself into - the curious dark stirs around me and I'm awake. Sometimes I feel like he's there sitting at the edge of the bed - sometimes closer - "don't wake him, let me watch him sleep", he says.
 
So Wednesday night, I avoided friends, the gym, I drank, weaved my way to the Jack-In-The box and ate food that reminded me of being 19. I slept - my three retrievers surrounding me - I slept not next to them - but amongst them - part of the litter, the runt, the one who may not survive.

There was a nightmare - there is almost always a nightmare - the last guy I slept with on an on going basis told me who the screams would wake him in the middle of the night.
 
In the dream I was at a party in a beautiful, skyrise penthouse, my brother - still younger than his impending marriage, still 40 lbs away from giving in, attending with me - we brought our beloved nephew - a mere baby boy would had just learned to walk.

In the dream - the party switched unexpectedly from a cocktail party to leather - my brother was charming men near the wall on the penthouse floor - he let my nephew perform acrobats on the railing - in the dream I ran to the wall screaming and screaming to my brother "Get him away from the wall!", my brother startled turned and his arms sent my nephew flying outwards - grasping at empty, night air and then falling and falling in to an nighttime abyss...I screamed and cried - "Oh my GOD - OH MY GOD !!" - my brother and others turned and looked at me - "Look what you've done - YOU, YOU'VE KILLED him", the guilt swelled, yet I knew I couldn't be responsible for this - "...but, I did nothing I stammered!?", my brother screamed, "You saw what you did, you know this is YOUR fault!!". I cried and the guilt filled me - I need to die - I'm cursed - I ran for the wall and stoped short grabbing the edge - I don't want to die yet, I thought - I'm not ready.
 
I awoke - my breathing harried, heart racing, tears spilling on to my  pillow - I killed him, I cried - this is all my fault, but I'm not ready to die.
 
I paced up and down my hallway - I wasn't stupid, it was all starting again - the guilt, the blame 0 I grabbed a dvd and pulled all my pillows around me - and with bumper at hand sailed far away and felt peaceful again.