Inside Out

Earlier I was ruminating about how I'm so good at keeping things in, and how even thougth some things are eating me alive, I keep oh so quiet and you cou couldn't tempt stuff out of me for shit. In some kind of cosmic retribution, I have somehow damaged my rib cage which means I can't stand up properly without being in huge amounts of pain. What's inside is trying to get out but it's not happening.

I think it is an established fact that my body is falling apart. A few years ago, say 2003 (just to pick a particularly dreadful vintage), I was on the less sane side of sanity, but despite the odds, I was remarkably healthy (apart from throwing up all the time and the fact I used to faint up to 20 times a day). Nowadays I am not sure whether I am really that sane after all as surely normal girls don't cry in shops, and I am turning to dust beneath my very own eyes. Which I suppose is similar to how I am feeling inside. I am not sure why anyone is brought up to have dreams and ambitions because it just leads to disappointment. This wasn't exactly my childhood dream, if I ever really had one. My regrets far outweigh any positive thoughts I have about things I have done.

I am really lonely as everyone is either the other side of the world or even further away.

I am drinking for purely medicinal purposes. I'm still not talking about it though.