i have it all figured out. it's a sick cycle, but i'm determined to stop it.
the first step to doing so is to identify the stages so that i may more properly understand who i am. because all too often i hate myself.
i'd say for the better part of the last five or six or seven or eight years i've hated myself.
no. that's a lie. and instead of backspacing or deleting or not posting a lying entry, i'm going to leave it there. right there. entirely exposed and open to criticism.
now i will correct myself. i've hated myself for as long as i can remember. it's sad and pathetic and self-absorbed and i know it, i'm beginning to put an end to it.
you want the truth? it's not pretty. i'm not going to sugar coat it. i'm not going to give it a glossy top coat. i'm not going to smile and say it's all alright when it's not.
here's the truth:
i am four. i am wearing a pale pink leotard, and my strawberry blonde whisps of baby-fine johnson and johnson shampooed hair are slightly moist with sweet smelling sweat of softly powdered skin. i see my reflection and i deny that she is me.
i am the fat ballerina. i know i always joke about this, and i know you always laugh politely and tell me i wasn't, but i was. i know this for a fact; it is not a lie. ironically, jessica means grace. i was a bull in a china shop. once when i landed a leap, the cd player skipped and i wanted to die. die.
i am four.
i digress. as i mentioned at the start, i figured it out.
1. feel extremely happy about my life
2. feel guilty for feeling happy
3. become all-encompassingly burdened with guilt/blame
4. become depressed
5. realize that i have nothing about which to be depressed
6. feel extremely happy about my life
and so on and so forth.