No friends

I think I might finally be at the point in my life where I am ready to be loved. It's also one of the points I have felt most isolated. I have felt so inauthentic.

I'm no longer prepared to be honest. I have so little to lose at this point in my life, but everything feels so much more shameful. Everything seems to have so much more weight as I'm aging. I'm going to be an age soon I previously couldn't imagine wanting to live to see. And I've accomplished none of the fantastical things I thought would make dying a young artist romantic. I don't even make art anymore. Motivation is a rare find.

In many ways I'm losing my voice. I haven't been able to sing because I have spent so much of the last few years throwing up and letting allergies close my throat. Finding notes is a struggle. I'm not sure what the point would be to finding a vocal coach besides my own happiness. Happiness is such a foreign concept I can't entertain it as a real reason to do anything. When I do I often find something falls short of my expectations and happiness slips out of my grasp. It's only my negative expectations that ever seem to come true.

I don't know how to write because it has felt like everything is going so wrong, in the wrong way, in way that's both too common and not relatable. Right before the pandemic I was the furthest I'd ever been in a script. I met Collin and my main concern would be that I would be so distracted by pleasant moments with someone I loved that I'd lose any sense of urgency to create. I never considered that I'd just spend the next 3 years in a state of stress so high I couldn't commit to processing complex thoughts.

All I read is buzzfeed listicles now.

I never drink any water. I had an eating disorder. Now I am a fat person with health problems. Which feels like another shame-spiral down from just gaining back 30 pounds I lost through pretty unhealthy and psychologically torturous means. I have fatty liver and diabetes now and I'm trying to get to a point where I don't feel another deep sense of failure over this and question how I got here every day. I finally caught covid. I tried to blame it on that. The doctors were not having it. But what do they know, really. They just went to med school. I don't know their GPA or memory retention. I think I have to learn to be honest about it and honest about how I'm going to deal with it. I don't have a plan. There's some pills. One of them might make me feel sick to my stomach. I guess if the goal is weight-loss that might be good? Except, the thought is incredibly triggering. I apologize if it's triggering for you. I already don't eat a lot most of the work week. I don't have a lot of time and energy. I have heard you make time and eventually energy will happen. I don't know if that's really true. I could try. But honestly, it feels like a setup.

So I don't know what to write about because my health is failing in a way I find a little humiliating, but I know that's not the perspective other people going through this need. I need to know things can easily improve. I don't know what to draw because I used to enjoy fashion and I still tie cool fashion lewks to the young and thin fashion monsters in my brain. I don't want to be that kind of content creator. I don't want to be that voice. I want to embrace diverse bodies. I need to find a starting point.

It often feels now like no one understands. I'm not in a place to take advice. I don't know my next move. I just want to be happy and loved more than ever. I want sushi for valentine's day and other painfully normal things.

The most authentic moments I've had recently were crying at the doctor's office while waiting for my diagnosis because I hate needles and could focus on nothing but the idea of testing my blood daily. The other moment was this really rough friend breakup that some days feels like the beginning of the collapse of my social circle.

I know who I am right now the least I have ever known. All I know is I am the chubby loser girl in the office.