Here's The Deal

I keep fantasizing. Not about whatever most people do. I think about how nice it would be to have some idiot crash into me on the freeway and put me in the hospital where I'd been too sick to eat. I think about how much longer it will be before I start passing out enough that they have to take me into care. I think about how I can't say the things I need to say so I use my body to do it. The thinner I get, the more people tell me how skinny I look. I like it.

I hate the whole attention thing. It isn't the attention I want. It is the expression. Its a coded message. You noticed I lost weight, its like I told you what is wrong. We share an encoded secret. I am broken but to you it looks like I am skinny.

But for real. If I get bad enough they will have to put me into care. I will have to take time off work. I will have to talk to therapists and tell them what the fuck my problem is. That will feel nice. But I kind of feel like I might get stuck with doctors who don't get it. There is a serious problem with doctors being lazy these days.

Alone

Even in this blog. Alone.

Its depressing that I maintain the top accounts at work but miss more work than most. Probably 2 days on average month. I just get so tired. I work hard hard hard, then lose so much sleep, and get so weak. I have to take a day to recoup. And in it all I feel done. I feel tired. I feel alone at work, and alone away from work. For the few hours I have with my husband in a day, I feel companioned. I wish I had that all the time.