Well. I guess I should start getting serious about this weight loss thing. Time to hit the gym. I'm tired of not physically feeling good when it comes to my weight. Like, I'm pretty but I literally feel pains from being as heavy as I am. I don't look 181lbs (so I've been told) but I am, haha and my body honestly can't handle the weight. I want to be pain free, feel lighter and be stronger. My goal is to get down to at least 155lbs before I deploy to Afghanistan this year! I want to be at my best. I don't feel like writing about what I ate today in neat structure so I had a pretty healthy breakfast (fruits, eggs, cottage cheese) , tuna sandwhich on sourdough bread and tonight I am going to drink a protein shake for dinner after I finished working out.
So it's a regular day. I'm sitting at the computer typing away on xanga instead of doing actual work even though I have 2 essays and a final due before 9pm. Amazing, right? I'm such a fucking procrastinator, haha. Oh well. I mean, I'll get it done ... eventually. That's just how I do things. Why? Because I'm a genius ... or just really ADD. Ahh focus Mercedes!!! Focus!!! I freakin' hate homework *whines* it's sooo boring! Damn it. Okay. Attempt # 1,000 doing homework in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... bye now :/
Update: *5 hrs later* Okay! Seriously this time ... Time to get studious!
A year ago, no just a few months ago if someone would have told me that I would suddenly be living in Washing state as the a solider in the US Army. Ammunition Specialist, eating healthy, training and all at the same time managing to still destroy myself, I would have told that person that they're fuckin crazy. But hey, look at me. I look at myself all the time. All these ugly little secrets of mine covered in a pretty wrapping. Like a present from someone you hate. I'm in college and I have a successful career and everything seems okay but look closer ... if you would stop admiring the pretty, perferectly folded gift wrapping paper long enough to just open the package you'd see the ugliness inside. You'd see it all. The cuts and how some of them are still freshly dark while others are faded from an 'addiction' I promised my parents I'd quit. My swollen and sore throat from all of the times I've vomitted my food out of hurt and anger. The scratch marks on my hands from being nervous. The fake idenity of an imaginary person that I have made up for myself inside my cell phone so throughout the day I can live another life as someone else and forget about my own. The closer I come to finding myself, the farther away I get if that makes any sense at all. If I could, I would sit on the bathroom floor or closet floor and cut myself for days on end and I might even pick up smoking a bowl of weed. That's if I could. I would stuff my face with fatty foods and puke it all back up until my throat bled from the repeated blows to the throat thanks to my index finger. I would pop pills and write love letters to the perfect guy I'm not even sure I've met yet. I would cry. I would read books off my amazing Nook book about love, family and (my new fascination) children who kill. I would go over the autobiography of Marilyn Manson and re-read the journals of Kurt Cobain and find all of the quotes that stand out to me. I would sit in front of the bathroom mirror and examine my face - my facial expressions to see if they're real. I would do all of these things while listening to my favorite music and ignoring my Classical Mythology homework But I can't. As much as I want to stare off into nothing and lose my mind for one fucking time, for a few days, months, I can't. I have too much to do. Too much to keep together. I have to keep the fakeness of my perfect looking life going. I have to keep pretending to push through without any hang ups. The emotionally stronger sister. The successful daughter. The virgin who doesn't date because she simply does not want to. When none of this is true. I am such a big, ugly liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. My false reality is crumbling before my very eyes and I just keep trying to rebuild the foundation of it all even though I know I'd probably be better off without it but I can't...I can't let it go.
Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to do something totally amazing && different - something impulsive && unpredictable. I'm always so careful - so afraid of the unknown that sometimes I think I forget how to live. I joined the Army. Yeah now that was an impulsive, amazing, different && upredictable experience but ... I still feel like I'm missing something. It feels like there's this spot in my heart that's missing blood - the filler; life. I don't know what I'm searching for anymore. Maybe I want a rollercoaster of a relationship && not the same boring Brady Bunch type guys I always try to go for. Maybe I want to take on an adventure in my car. See the sights. Share laughs && crazy experiences with my friends or with that guy I'm also searching for so we can look back on all this and think, "That was awesome - insane." or "Haha! What the hell happened?" A part of me day dreams about meeting someone like how the main characters do in Sarah Dessen's books. Some attractive guy catching my attention in the most random of places only to leave without giving as much as a phone number && somehow we run back into eachother like the whole thing was some weird twist of fate && swipes me off my feet during my tough times && helps me discover myself.