(an excerpt from my abstract pieces of thought that I refuse to call a diary or a journal, just because)
I love music. It seems to provide a soundtrack for my life. It keeps me going, inspired, wanting to write. I've tried to write lyrics, but without a guitar, and with my sense of rhthym being slightly askew, I've given up hope. I've written a lot of poetry, for a while now, but when I look back through my alphabetized archives, I realize how absolutely pathetic I sound, with words like blood, soil, pain, hurt, heart, and black coming up often, you would think somebody hurt me deeply or something. Fact of the matter is no one has ever hurt me deeply and known about it. It is something I create, that delusional pain and love torment shit that doesn't exist because I'm dateless. It isn't because of my complexion, either. I'm just too fat to date, and I'm not one of those excruciatingly annoying girls who whines about their ass being too big when they're a size 6. I'm really fat, actually large, etc etc. I own all x pounds that I carry, and let me tell you, x isn't even remotely close to being a two digit number.
I have to mention weight when I discuss myself, because it covers me, it blankets me, and though I wish it were not, it is part of my personality. In this society, you are how you look, that's what first impressions are. And how much of the population is going to slow down to ask me what I'm about? The world is fast. They see me, they see my girth, what an ugly word, and they move on, thinking "she's fat.. she's gross, or she's ugly, or she's this.. or that.. etc". No one stops to ask me about my ideas and thoughts. Maybe that's why I write. So much of the population doesn't ask, that I'm hoping maybe someday this will just appear on a shelf somewhere in some store and one of those people in the population pick it up, browse it. They can have a sense of my self without seeing my girth. It's a nice concept. But we're not readers, we're lookers, we just want to see, quickly, a few visuals to get an idea of something that can barely be encompassed in a book. We need to see to believe, to understand, to comprehend, to make the connection in our minds. I should really draw what I look like in these margins.
I should draw what I think I look like. That perception differs daily. Somedays I look in the mirror and my mind that wants so much to believe that I'm growing closer to the center of normality, it tells me that I look fine. I don't look too fat. Then somedays I look in the mirror and I think I could be the fattest person in my town, my town of ten thousand people. I know for sure I won't be the fattest kid in New York City, when I move there. The odds are for me there.
I have it good probably. I've read so many times about these girls, these girls who are obese like me, and they have bad lives. They have no friends, get picked on constantly, get bad grades because of it. Maybe I'm just fortunate, even blessed, to have a relatively decent social life, and intelligence to make up for anything I'm lacking. I'm not a genius, but I sure as hell am not stupid. I don't think in statistics, I'm not a member of MENSA, but I do well enough with my gut reactions and my philosophical idealism that roams inside my mind. I'm just not ready to really write about everything that goes on in my head. I'm very critical, because the world is critical about me, about my size, so I'm critical back. It's an inborn defense mechanism. I enjoy humor, as my mother did, and am sarcastic, and am even slightly sadistic to fellow members of the human race, particularly those I love, and I've never figured why. I don't understand a lot of my genetic traits, my little quirky habits.