И я на память оставлю свои сигареты...

I am without defense. I am confused and lost. I blame fatigue for this. I have trained myself to ignore certain thoughts, to disconnect myself from past events and the emotions they stir up. Fatigue strips me of all filters and all conscious and sub-conscious defense mechanisms. It brings out the darkest inside me. But I'm not depressed. I'm in limbo.

It's not a question of staying positive. Answers are what I need. I can't help but dissect everything and everyone around me, even myself.

I'm not searching for any kind of enlightenment. I am searching for independence. I take pride in myself being indestructible, my lack of certain weaknesses. I'd rather spend my life in solitude than to give into what others ask of me. The problem arises when I cannot unscramble my thoughts and emotions.

I've had a surreal weekend. It was something out of a dream or a movie or a book. Anything except something out of my life. I wouldn't call it a downward spiral...that is too negative. I've accepted the events that have happened and have had some great laughs about it with my parents, who I adore more and more because they are accepting me for who I am and are finally becoming the support that I need. What I cannot accept are certain actions that I partook in. It was unlike me and I would like to believe that I had the ability to stop it in its tracks but I can’t ever know. I was completely taken aback. A slap in the face. What else was I to do but go along with it? I wanted to see how it panned out. I wanted to see how much I can take. I shocked myself. To walk away immediately unscathed. To go with life instead of controlling every moment. To sit on the edge of a cliff and dangle my feet, dangle my feet and tease the air below me. The fall would have brought me completely to my knees and crushed what I worked hard to build. It was tempting.

What I am afraid of is that part of me inside that I try to kill; that free, careless, and mischievous rebel inside me that I have suppressed when my father got sick. I set my priorities and followed through. I put work ahead of school out of desperation and have since re-assessed what is important to me right now: family, school, certain individuals, and work.

Family…my parents are amazing people, as is my brother. We are not openly physically affectionate but there are certain moments when I feel completely one with them. My mother has accepted that she cannot control me and has learned to trust my decisions and my morals. She always had a way to tell what happened without me having to go into detail and I appreciate her not poking around too much in my business, especially something as humiliating to me as this weekend was. My father has always been my spine. As annoying as he can get, I love him. Our quiet understanding is unmatched. He is there for me every chance I need him. I used to feel so hurt because they didn’t support my fencing and I still get upset when they disapprove of certain things in my life. At the end of the day, we are all the other has and there is a bittersweet, quiet, and steady flame that burns within our hearts and our house…our love for each other.

I do not know what to expect out of people. I am ashamed and afraid to admit that I don’t know my own strength, positive and negative. I am bipolar in that I feel everything emotion to the fullest. This is my blessing, my curse.

Anxiety has overwhelmed me and fatigue has brought out my inner most secrets. I walk around fully vulnerable to the world, naked in every sense but physical. My anorexic tendencies have returned. But I persevere. I like to throw things over the cliff and watch them tumble down. I like to suffer, to feel this flood. Not out of masochism. Possibly out of a need to feel alive through some way. I’m aggressive. I’m passionate. I’m loyal. I’m flawed. Seeing both sides of the argument is not a great way to stay sane.

I feel the acids in stomach turning. I’ve got what, 11..12 days without eating a single bite of food? I’ve almost hospitalized myself; almost sent myself into a disabled state before I was even 16. This is nothing.

But still, the feeling lingers.

There’s a championship game of ping-pong going on in my heart.