I just need to stop complaining and whining so much. That is the real problem; the sniveling.
I don’t need to be so sad.
I’m not talking about ‘getting in touch with my feelings‘, or ‘learning to love myself’ or any other hollow clichés that we all try to act like we understand, and I’m not talking about recovery. I’m talking about doing whatever it is that I feel like I need to be doing, while asking less questions. Or just giving up entirely.
I need to stop paying so much attention to my ED, basically. I need to stop staring at it, inspecting it, talking to it. I need to stop gripping its bony hand and telling myself it is helping me balance when I know deep down that it is only dragging me along. Jeez.. Just let go.
Ash: Starve if you want to, starve and eat if that is what you really want to do, but either way just stop bitching about it!
It really is not as big of a deal as I have made it to be. It is not the looming monster or wicked witch I have built in my head. Think about it: this is not going to kill me. I’m not deadly thin (and I’m not saying that doesn’t exist, or that certain other girls are not toying with death, I’m just saying my situation is not at that point) and my health is not failing me the way that Seventeen Magazine and Lifetime Network would have me believe.
It can’t be, because there are many people thinner than me that are getting around just fine! Legions of other women who maintain rail-thin (even unnaturally thin) bodies intentionally are getting through life without constantly estimating when the end will come. If things were as bad for me as I make them out to be, the “Supermodel” would be an endangered species, dropping like flies and slumping dead off the runways of Milan and Paris. What I’m doing is not so bad.
If it were, Calvin Klein would be the modern-day Hitler.
This life may be unhealthy and unnatural, but so is Coca-Cola.
So what I need to do is similar to what I’ve been doing most of my life; log off the wrong Ashton and on the right one. Swapping from Ashton to Ashton is easy because it has always been a fact of life for me. Melancholic, lonely Ashton needs to just shut the heck up for a while and let a more functional version ride shotgun. This is easier than it sounds, and no I’m not crazy… maybe I am.
I’m not trying to claim that I’m several people; they are all me.
I suppose it is like a Swiss Army Knife… A Swiss Army Knife is not any one thing which morphs. It is not a knife that changes to scissors, nor is it a pair of scissors with a screwdriver attached, etc. It is merely a vessel which holds various tools that can be easily chosen based on the individual task. Need scissors? You got scissors! Need a magnifying glass or a tiny toothpick? There you go! We all do this with our personality. Some of us do it consciously or unconsciously, and some of us do it inappropriately or rarely or in excess.
i need to kill myself.
I don’t need to be so sad.
I’m not talking about ‘getting in touch with my feelings‘, or ‘learning to love myself’ or any other hollow clichés that we all try to act like we understand, and I’m not talking about recovery. I’m talking about doing whatever it is that I feel like I need to be doing, while asking less questions. Or just giving up entirely.
I need to stop paying so much attention to my ED, basically. I need to stop staring at it, inspecting it, talking to it. I need to stop gripping its bony hand and telling myself it is helping me balance when I know deep down that it is only dragging me along. Jeez.. Just let go.
Ash: Starve if you want to, starve and eat if that is what you really want to do, but either way just stop bitching about it!
It really is not as big of a deal as I have made it to be. It is not the looming monster or wicked witch I have built in my head. Think about it: this is not going to kill me. I’m not deadly thin (and I’m not saying that doesn’t exist, or that certain other girls are not toying with death, I’m just saying my situation is not at that point) and my health is not failing me the way that Seventeen Magazine and Lifetime Network would have me believe.
It can’t be, because there are many people thinner than me that are getting around just fine! Legions of other women who maintain rail-thin (even unnaturally thin) bodies intentionally are getting through life without constantly estimating when the end will come. If things were as bad for me as I make them out to be, the “Supermodel” would be an endangered species, dropping like flies and slumping dead off the runways of Milan and Paris. What I’m doing is not so bad.
If it were, Calvin Klein would be the modern-day Hitler.
This life may be unhealthy and unnatural, but so is Coca-Cola.
So what I need to do is similar to what I’ve been doing most of my life; log off the wrong Ashton and on the right one. Swapping from Ashton to Ashton is easy because it has always been a fact of life for me. Melancholic, lonely Ashton needs to just shut the heck up for a while and let a more functional version ride shotgun. This is easier than it sounds, and no I’m not crazy… maybe I am.
I’m not trying to claim that I’m several people; they are all me.
I suppose it is like a Swiss Army Knife… A Swiss Army Knife is not any one thing which morphs. It is not a knife that changes to scissors, nor is it a pair of scissors with a screwdriver attached, etc. It is merely a vessel which holds various tools that can be easily chosen based on the individual task. Need scissors? You got scissors! Need a magnifying glass or a tiny toothpick? There you go! We all do this with our personality. Some of us do it consciously or unconsciously, and some of us do it inappropriately or rarely or in excess.
i need to kill myself.