I'm up at 9:30 and I weigh 57,4 kg today. It's a slow progress but still a progress. Really gonna try my best to fast today, even if that means drinking coffee until bedtime and popping Imovane before midnight. Gotta buy more energy drinks too, only got one left. And diet coke! I've been drinking so much diet coke yesterday I almost drank the whole 1,5 litre bottle. And purged about half of it, but still.
10 packs of cigarettes was barely enough for 5 days this time. Which means I do chain smoke a lot. Images from Grimston Estate suddenly pop up in my head. From a scene when my characters were almost the most broken. Sometimes I wish I could have written it better, like it became all so repetitive and weird. Cause I know character development and I really do think I made them come to life, but all the rest is just crap. Me piling one event upon another, hardly letting my characters breathe in between.
I needed for it to be that way, I needed to write what I would want to read. But I wish I was a better writer who didn't slaughter the English language. I think my book writing days are over though, I don't think I'll write any more such big projects. Not that I don't have the time, cause I kinda do, but I don't have any ideas, imagination or energy for it. I wrote 2 books and a few really good and complete short stories. Maybe that's enough, but enough is a state I'll never reach.
I could however write more short stories, if I can ever figure anything out. I really do like my latest one, the one about the children, if you remember. I posted about it a little everywhere when I wrote it some time ago, but I can't remember when that was. I do want to get back into writing fiction again but as I said, I have no ideas or imagination. I have no clue what I could be writing about, cause as it is right now, I can't see further than my own nose.
I'm so wrapped up in my own crap, that ever so present darkness, that I can't create characters, background stories, scenery or story lines. Sometimes I can get like a whiff of a character, just glimpses, that I am unable to continue to build on. I blame it on me being malnourished, that it takes a lot of my creativity away, kills it more effectively than anti-psychotic drugs.
But I do want to, find my way back into the endless word flows that come straight from my heart and subconscious. I want to immerse myself completely in fantasy worlds with made up people populating them. I need for the worlds in my head to get unstuck cause I know they're there somehow. Hidden under layers of this... this numbness.
I try sometimes, to start a new project but I have no plan, no train of thought to follow through, and it becomes nothing of it. A few lines at best. I miss it, I miss it a lot. As writing is now my only outlet, but not even that becomes anything productive, except from the poems. I was surprised one of my most recent poems got as much as 8 notes when I'm used to getting 1 at most. It's hard for me to know what kind of writings the people on tumblr generally like. I'm not writing for them, but sometimes it makes me wonder. It's not my favourite poem, but it became very true and honest. Very close to my heart.
At school we're gonna have, at some point, an assignment where we're gonna bring something of an hobby with us to show and literally the only thing I can think of is my poems. I'd have to find (in my folders) or write something in Swedish then cause most of my classmates' English skills suck so badly they literally can't understand it if their lives so depended on it. But... why not write one in English and then also bring a translation? It's a thought. Gotta have one ready as soon as the holiday is over, so that I'm prepared. I'll probably pick one of my favourites. Dark, but not too dark. Like maybe not one of my suicidal poems.
I don't want to cause a lot of worry when the attention should be directed at my poem and not at me. I can and do write poems in both languages but I much prefer writing them in English. It feels like I have more freedom then. Playing with words, rhymes and rhythm is so much more fun then too. I feel very limited by Swedish, it's an inadequate language. At least it is when you compare.
I hold on to my writing, afraid to lose that too. It's the last creative thing that I have left now. And it feels like it's the last thing that's gonna leave me. I sure hope so, at least. Cause living without dreams, even without hopes, I can do that I've done it before - but only if I can write about it. As long as I have my words, I don't feel so terrible, or... it's like, I can just manage. It's like a crutch or a wheelchair that can carry me even in my hardest times, to be able to just get it all down on paper or computer screen.
To vent or just reflect with myself and Anna, to connect with people or to be able to explain why I don't want to connect. To explain how I think and feel, I believe that is indeed a precious gift. That no matter how hard it is, I still have my words. I love them to bits, I wouldn't be able to survive otherwise. Cause my body language is quite inadequate in most occasions and my eyes just can't speak loud enough.
Deep set and hidden behind glasses as they are. They are just not enough, although I sometimes wish they were. I can't show emotions, I can't show what I feel. I would have been so beyond handicapped in this world without my ability to express myself through words, and words alone. Maybe I am a true communicator in this world. It's a comforting thing to have that ability, I would have been so lost without it. It has actually gotten me very far in life, despite how not so far I may seem to have actually come.
So yeah, it would indeed be worse than a nightmare if I was to lose my ability to express myself with words. I hold on to it so hard, so very hard, so very afraid to let go. But I can't for the life of me think of anything fiction to write. Maybe I've lost that part due to my eating disorder, I cannot know for sure. But time will tell me, maybe one day it will come back to me.
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