||[Jul. 28th, 2007|09:40 pm]
And then you're someone you are not . . .
Shadows fall onto me
And she stands there over me
And waits to encompass me
I lay here helplessly
But oh what can you do
When she's dressed in black
Dressed in black again . . .
I try not to be morose, at least not publicly, but the truth is that I sometimes have to actively talk to myself (not aloud) and tell myself that I have a purpose and that I am supposed to be here, here on this earth, alive and happy and well. I'm adopted, and one of my ongoing neurosises is that I was never meant to be here, was never meant to have been conceived or born. I am an accident and while the logical person inside me totally knows I'm being absurd, sometimes the bitter neurotic in me dwells on the idea that my obesity (among other things) is just proof that I wasn't meant to be here in a positive way. I know that this comes from early messages I received, that I weren't tall, svelte and beautiful, then I would be readily dismissable. The thing about my weight for me, though, is that it is only an external indicator of whatever it is that is dark and fucked up inside me. It makes me very much a loner. I'm not sure people would describe me, outwardly, as a loner, but I feel like one.
I am just crazily scared, all over the place -- scared of what will happen after I lose weight. I fear an inability to control myself and I fear certain underlying pathological feelings of neediness that I have struggled with since I was an adolescent. I pray the sane, grounded, good-hearted adult in me will prevail. It has to. It just has to.
Ugh. I often feel so alone. I would just like to feel that I really am meant to be. And not tainted.