I can't stop checking emails. It's been 3 days since I heard from P, who also went home.
I can't stop eating. It's been 4 days since I am back, in 3 of which I can't stop.
I can't stop worrying.
I can't stop feeling so sad when I see the dog, who is ancient, immobile, numb, doesn't recognize me, pees on herself, shits where she's it.
I can't stop hiding in my parents' house. Hiding from my relatives, from my friends even.
I wish this bloody period would get here already because I can't stop worrying over the weight I'd gain.
I start every day hopeful, but with no routine, structure of discipline. I start every day the way that I have lived my entire life.
I put a link to this blog on the forums at aidsmeds/poz.com. It's the first time I publicize it. Whoever will follow the link will see a very low point. Not the lowest by far, but pretty low, confused, disoriented. I hate landing back to this reality of my childhood. I knew, I should've listened to myself, that I was afraid of going home, that it will set me back, throw me down. But there was a part of me that craves that, just as there is a part that longs to fall apart every month.
Damn it I need a cigarette. I try to keep writing now long enough to reach some kind of closure, as I invariably do when I listen to myself long enough. But I can't. It's sweltering outside, and boiling inside my own hectic mind and body (the binging alignes them together, and maybe that's why I do it, to match the outer stress with the inner one, to manifest).
Did this have to happen today? part of me can't help wishing for a more representattive balanced picture-post of myself to show the others. But I know, blogging (at least this kind) ain't about that, and this isn't what I want to achieve. For what I want to achieve I must walk through the fire.
Great, now they will think you insane...
Well, if anybody is reading this, do, please, look at other posts as well. This isn't just me. I am not always like this. This is not the full picture, but I'd rather this than hypocracy.
I wish P would hurry up & write aleardy. I don't want, and know it isn't wise, to put the focus on "him", the knight, rather than me. But I can't help bearing a grudge, because he said this time he would even call me, skype me, text me...
I am just bloody fucking human, and I hate it.