Courage.

Dumbo always thought he needed a magic feather for the courage to fly. We all rely on crutches to get us through our days. To help us function better, to give us the courage and the will to continue on. I wonder how many things I rely on for the courage to do anything. The multiple times I’ve given up out of fear and then paced myself back into a state of consciousness. I rely on words to be my magic feather, for the fear of things not working out in my daily life. The things I don’t have the will to say out loud, I save until I use the pen as my voice and the paper as my soapbox to escape to.

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Most days I don’t feel brave. Most days I don’t feel anything at all. Most days I want to give up and fall back into the darkness of dependency of my self destructive nature. Just disappear for days on end until the blood flows out of every vein in my body. Until my lifeless soul has nothing to attach itself to. Those are most days. The days were even the brave have a dent in their courageous armor. Whats a little courage without being a little cowardly? I find myself more than usual in a series of fears and panics. Of course it’s all just rather dramatic. Just feeling the weight of the world on my shoulder and wishing for something lighter. Wishing that life could just be a little kinder on the days I need it the most. Then I find myself comparing myself to others and wondering why I can’t be where I need to be. Why can’t I just figure out the tools in life, I need to get a move on in my life. Its having everything you need and not knowing the start from the finish. Where do we get to where we need to be.

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Then I think back to Dumbo. How he believed that with a magic feather he could do anything. With that magic feather he could fly. Instead of holding on to false ideas and illusions, I just have to believe in myself. Find the courage to keep going. Find the courage to be brave and go after what I want. It’s nice to believe that there’s something out there that gives us the magic to believe. In the end thats all what we want, a little magic to find the courage in ourselves. Maybe I don’t need a magic feather, but it’s nice to pretend that I do.

12/22/2013

Crusty Old Chuck Taylors.

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If you could walk a mile in my shoes, oh the stories you would see, the places you would go. It’s weird to think of shoes as a part of a memory. I tend to find myself attached to every article of clothing as a living breathing thing. My chucks are no exception. They’re more than just a pair of shoes, they are an extended part of my being.  Maybe it’s not the miles in the shoes, but the memories of where they carried me.

I wish I could tell you how I was first magically drawn to these shoes. How their magnetism attracted me to them but telling my secrets takes away the magic. Takes away the purity of what you feel once you lace up your first pair of converse. To me, my chucks were my shield. They were my super hero alter ego. Every time I wore them life happened, every experience my chucks were there taking in the moment. They were my snapshot into some of the greatest and even some of the saddest moments of my life. They have taken me to great lengths of the world. They have travelled with me from beyond the states and across the borders. They have seen the lightest happiest moments of my life to the deepest darkest moments of my soul. Its funny how a pair of shoes can carry a soul and still keep you planted on the ground. Every time I laced up my shoes, I felt every bit of my history reappear before my eyes.

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The stories they can tell you from every mile I walked in them. From every venue, to every dark corner of the city, to the arms of loved ones and fallen foes. I loved and I lost, in these shoes. I lived and I breathed, within every mile I walked in these shoes. I’ve picked myself up and reinvent myself and still I carry these shoes with me. They’re a nostalgic part of being young and stupid, and they’re also my growing up and moving forward. I could have an endless supply of chucks, in various styles and colors, and still I stick to my battered down black low tops from my teenage angst years. Still I keep them as a part of who I was and no matter how broken they look, they always make me feel whole.

Looking at them battered, crusted and lived in, I don’t dare let them go. Because letting them go, lets go of the stories that are held together in the holes of the canvas. Letting them go, lets go of the tears the soles of the shoes caught upon the pavement. There’s something beautiful about watching something unravel before your eyes and thats how I feel about my chucks. I will wear them until the laces fray and break apart. Until the canvas becomes unglued, until the soles can’t hold me anymore. Until my feet can’t feel life within those shoes, I won’t dare let them. Because only when those shoes are finished is when a new story begins. Only then will I find a new story in a new pair of chuck taylors. Until then, I will live in the lifetime of memories until these shoes complete disintegrate.

Until my shoes can’t carry me is when I finally let my chucks go.

Until then.

 

Please don’t go, I love you so.

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Letting go is only easy in words and phrases. We find ourselves cataloging every life experience and weighing out the options of ever truly leaving. Letting go only happens once we truly reach our breaking point, after second, third and fourth chances have washed away to nothing. Dusting ourselves off and hoping for the best in battered broken people that we can’t help but want to fix ourselves. Truth is we want to be the one leaving but to have people leave, we can’t stand the breaking.

I have a tendency of believing that people are exactly as they are in my memory. In memories people never change, they always remain the same person. Frozen in a time period and illusions of a good story. In memories people never tell you how they truly feel until it’s too late. Until the illusions shatter and you’re left with trying to piece together the parts of a broken puzzle. Why can’t we just all live in the nostalgic ways of yesterday? Why does everything in life have to change? We grow up and out of our juvenile tendencies but does it also have to change who we are as people.

Letting go is all part of growing up. I can’t seem to wrap my mind around that. Some where inside I still believe people are exactly who they are upon first meeting them. It’s hard for me to believe that change happens when you grow up. People you were once close to can become strangers. The people you once depended on can become distant just as the memories of your childhood youth. Everyone becomes a footnote in the story of your life. The more you hold on to them to stay, the more they walk away and disappear. You can’t help but blame yourself for the distance and believe it was everything that you did. Why is it so easy for people to leave and so hard for them to stay? Why can’t I just let people go, just as they have done to me?

Maybe I am still juvenile in my way of thinking. Believing in mystical beings and perfect settings of the universe. Believing in the good of every person I encounter and wishing for things to remain the same. I am not afraid of change, I am just afraid of people leaving and never returning. Fear of saying goodbye too early and watching the memories disappear. Time is moving faster and before we know it, everything we once loved has tarnished and gone away. People we spent endless times with disappear faster than sand through hour glasses. We can’t keep begging people to stay. We can’t keep holding on to memories that no longer exist. All nostalgia ever does is bring us down.

But still, I can’t let go.

Break my heart. Tell me every dark thing imaginable, just don’t ever leave me. Please let me hold on for the sake of memories and nostalgic reasons. What ever you do, please don’t go. Let me hold on to the night skies and every story that follows after. Let me keep pretending in Neverland and fighting pirates. Anything but the art of leaving and letting go. Anything but that.

Please don’t go, I love you so.

3/13/2010

What kind of man.

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You held on for as long as you needed to. Leaving all the broken pieces shattered around you. This was how you loved, this was how you expressed yourself. Breaking everything in your path that didn’t need to be broken. You were far to broken to concern yourself with decaying corpses. Still you sucked the life out of every living breathing thing, consuming yourself with the living instead of fixing up your own broken path. These were your paths and your stories. Your lives with the lies that you told to make everything whole again.

You do such damage, how do you manage?
Tryna crawl in back for more

You loved too many and you loved too much. All your mistakes transferred to every single one of those broken pieces you left scattered behind. Who was to blame for your mass destruction and chaos that lay beneath you feet. Who was to blame when you loved too much and left the lifeless to fend for themselves. The glass hearts of everyone that stood in your way, shattered and scattered once you let go. You were good with letting go just when you needed too. Just enough time to live, love, and forget everything. This was how you lived and how you loved. How you broke apart every living vessel and left the corpses of broken people behind. This was how you said you loved everything until you took everything you wanted. If this is how you love, just take it back. Take everything you said back because no man could ever hurt to the point of breaking someone.

What kind of man loves like this

I was left to fend for myself and pick up all the pieces you left behind. Because it was you that said you loved but held on just when you needed to. Letting go and watching my lifeless corpse cross the channels to find you again. Swimming through the broken shattered pieces and cutting myself deep just to reach you. I bled, I fought and I cried every fucking time because this was how you loved. My own foolish broken heart didn’t know any better but to pick up the pieces and reach you again. There you dangled my lifeless corpse and started this mess all over again. I am lifeless, I am hurt, and more than anything I am scatterbrained and broken to the touch. I watched you with a noble heart, hoping that you’d come back to find me. I sat broken in disbelief and wished that you’d see through to my broken soul.

Storms pass then you see a clearing. Somewhere along the way we watch a part of ourselves reconstruct and rebuild ourselves. Stronger, better than before. You may have broke me but you never will again. You may have loved me but you never will again. No man should every hurt the ones they love. No man should ever break the paths of broken people. What kind of man loves like this, is the kind of man that will always be broken.

You will not break me again.

9/15/2012

 

Hurt.

Scars have a way of reminding us of who we used to be. The more I glance upon my skin, the more my scars find a way to haunt me. Telling me stories of what being broken does to harm a person, more than allowing them to heal. My scars were always my battle wounds of the past, just another story to keep to myself. One day this will all disappear, I’ll find new skin to paint over the old. Isn’t that all we really want? Just a clean slate to wash over all our prior mistakes. Some days I am ready to let go of the past, other days I can’t help but think of every single detail.

Who am I, without my broken past of broken promises. Who am I, without all the chaos and sadness that surrounds me. Who am I, in the light that changes the moment the dark hits me. Most days I am just trying to keep this broken corpse together and other days I can’t wait to tear it apart. Self destructing is in my nature, it’s something I can’t escape from. I can fool everyone but I can’t seem to fool myself. Maybe all I need is to dig myself a little deeper in the hurt and cut out the pain. Get rid of all the self destructive desires and find a way to let in the good. Because everything I am feeling is bad and all I could think about is how to hurt myself and make myself bleed.

All I have left are the scars that remind me of every tragic moment in my life. Every last broken hurtful piece of flesh that bleed through every cut. Some days I can still feel it. They are memories that no matter how you suppress them, they never truly go away. Maybe the madness never truly goes away, we all just find ways to pretend we are okay. Are we ever truly okay? Can we ever just forget the past of broken promises and give way to a peaceful future? Perhaps. Or then again there’s no such thing as a peaceful future because we are so self consumed in our past prior mistakes. It doesn’t matter how many times I wrap myself up with new skin and promises of new beginnings, I find myself picking at the scabs of cuts that should have already healed.

Why do I do that to myself? Why am I so focused on the pain and fixated on the amount of hurt I put myself through?

Days I wish I could forgive myself. Forgive every hurtful dark thing I could think about. Maybe then my heart could feel whole again. Maybe then my heart would find a way to love again. But the more I dwell the more I can’t. I can’t forgive myself when the scars are the constant reminders of my mistakes. The scars find a way to open themselves up and bleed out every terrible thing I can think about. Its the scars that keep me thinking of the darkness when I should be searching for the light.

All I want is to hurt and to continue in this pain. Watch my body self destruct and be rid of this vessel and find some peace of mind. Take all my broken pieces and find some way toward the light. This dark is to heavy and the scars are too. Who knows where the future will lead me but I know this present is persistent to this hurt. Scratch, cut, and bleed my way through. Its after all the blood has drained that the hurt will go away. Only then would I find peace.

Only then I will find the light.

7/13/2007

Talking sh*t about a pretty sunset.

I am a sucker for sunsets. Where the colors of the sky blend chaotically into the atmosphere. Where the fades of sky blues tarnish into the clouds to form bright pinks to luscious violets and transition with their oranges into the dark skies we see at night. Maybe I am the only one that sees it that way. Watching this transformation of color just happen before my eyes.  The more I try and explain myself, the more people point out the flaws and dismantle the sunset that I love. Colors of sunsets are a lot like dreams, everyone has their own perception of them. No matter how many times a person puts their two cents in about color, I can’t help but feel they have it all wrong. Everyone wants this picturesque sunset to photograph and show the world. To mark it up to their own perspection of beauty and edit out all the flaws. The more they capture the more they turn it around and change it. Editing reality you take away the beauty of it all. Flaws and all.

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Maybe we are going about it all wrong. Taking pictures of the sky doesn’t give the sky it’s beautiful justice. The colors that are sketched into my mind never show up as beautiful as I photograph them. Wouldn’t it be amazing if we could photograph the sky without the need of digital devices? No sunset looks as beautiful as it exist in my memory. No sunset can be photographed to its picturesque perfection. Why do I bother explaining the things I love, when someone is going to come around and change everything? You can’t put a filter on my sunsets and tell me that this is what you see. You can’t tell me that life as you photograph it is what I am suppose to see. I find myself allowing others fears and perception of beauty filter into my own ideas. I find myself wanting to change the things I once loved all for the sake of finding something beautiful. I can drive myself crazy trying to change every single one of the flaws but in the end its the imperfections that make everything so damn beautiful.

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Nostalgia always has a way of letting us down. Every once in a while people will find a way to let you down and break you heart. Sunsets will come and go and all you’re left with are all the colors they leave behind in your memory. Sometimes staring up at the sky is better than staying asleep and dreaming. Dreams are only real in your memory but sunsets are fucking there for the taking. Don’t allow anyone else’s perceptions of your reality change what you see. Then again what do I know, sunsets are just sunsets. Colors are just as over exaggerated as our dreams. Sometimes people are right, maybe the sunset that I see is in the wrong placement of everything I want. Maybe the colors that I see aren’t as important as what anyone else sees. Who knows. All I care about is feeling something other than nothing. Seeing the colors for everything they are worth, there for my amusement. I’ll never find the perfect sunset everyone claims exists. Maybe I am wrong for loving all the things that I do but for what it’s worth, I still fall in love every time I look up at the sky as the sun sets. That’s all I could ever ask for, falling in love with colors before the darkness hits. It’s through color that we truly believe in ourselves, it’s before the dark that we reach for the light again.  That’s all I could ever want.

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Talking shit about a pretty sunset
Blanketing opinions that I’ll probably regret soon
I’ve changed my mind so much I cant even trust it
My mind changed me so much I cant even trust myself

Before they turn the lights out.

There’s always a moment where your life seems to change. You don’t believe it at first. Maybe after all the years of being in darkness, you finally get a glimpse of the light. Anything to break you from this broken feeling of yesterday. It happens in an instant and before you know it, something inside of you clicks. In a moment it changes. In that moment you don’t want to disappear you just want to draw yourself closer to the light. It sounds crazy but the moment you feel it, is the moment that your world opens up differently.

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There was always this part of me that wanted to believe this broken feeling would last forever. That I would use this feeling as a badge of honor, that I lived through the bullshit of prior relationships. People always said that one day it would be over and still I refused to believe it. When you’re ready, you will know it. You will feel it in your bones and the past will just be a memory. I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to live in this bitterness and hopelessness. Just use every aspect of this hurt to shield away every part of myself. They say when you know, you’ll know. It’ll hit you when you least expect it. Hit you straight into your heart and flow through your blood stream. I knew it the moment you stepped into the room. It was at that moment that everything I felt from the past disappeared. In the moment that I saw you, I knew that everything was going to change. Even if it was just for a moment.

We don’t have forever
Ooh, baby daylight’s wasting

I didn’t have to know you, but for a moment I knew everything about you. In some cosmic soul racing against time, I knew everything. There are moments you want to capture in slow motion and I found myself doing just that. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t a crush, but it was something. If there was a way to explain it, I would formulate the words to describe that night. Sadly, I can’t. Just as easy as night falls the day light started coming up. We could have wished for more time, took more time to see things as we saw them. It would have ruined the moment. It would have taken apart every first to last look and time would have ran away faster. I couldn’t blame feelings on the drinks, I couldn’t blame how I felt on the bewitching lights of the city. For that moment I forgot what it was like to feel broken. Forgot who I had been before for a chance to change it all around for the night. All of my mistakes of yesterday vanished the moment I locked eyes with someone completely different from my past.

Emotions change over time. People we think we are in the night are different once the lights come back. As we hide our shells in the dark, turning the lights out only made it easier to hide ourselves. I’d be selfish to ask for something out of nothing. I’d be crazy to think that what I felt was love or anything like it. For the first time, I didn’t cry when songs came on. I didn’t remember the past scars and placements they held on my skin. It was in that one moment, I felt something change. All the bricks that had been thrown onto my heart, were finally coming down. Through the crowds of people, I finally saw someone as I wanted to see myself. In that brief moment, anything was possible. I’d be a fool to say that it would last forever. I knew it we were just moments away from the lights coming back on. Moments away from reality and our dreams turning to dust.

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I’d like to believe somewhere between the streets, that our souls are running through the sidewalks and in between the streets. That our souls found a way to be trapped in the night beneath the lights. Everything was darker and brighter with the street lights and the stars. Emotionally dimming in their own night settings. I’d give anything to return to that moment. Moments that seemed to last forever and trapped in a time and place. But as most things vanish, you did just the same. Just as the lights went out. Thats how life happens, bringing people to help you place the last fragments of your broken pieces into place. Its what you did and for that I could never feel anything more than I felt that night.

Before they turn the lights out.

9/6/2013

Pursuit of Happiness.

Crush a bit, little bit, roll it up, take a hit.

I am watching everything in my life slip away. Through the clouds of the smoke that we so delicately breathe out of ourselves. We are wasting away the nights drinking away our sorrows, when all we want to do is sit silently in deep thoughts and conversations. I have nothing to hide from these monsters I see before me. I have nothing to hide from the people that are surrounding me. All I ever wanted was a reason to escape these nightmares that keep me up at night. Instead I watch myself disappear into the clouds and float away from everything around me.

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Everything and everyone is alive in slow motion. Turning into blurry masses, while I constantly observe this happening. I am not afraid. I sit and observe in hope that in time I too will turn into a blurry mass of nothing. Disappear into the misty fog clouds that I see before me. Become nothing but a huge cloud of smoke and then nothing. I could die at this moment and still feel more alive then I did in my waking life. Feel something more than I have ever felt. Maybe death isn’t such a bad thing, all I know is that at this moment living is just a hard as dying.

Do you think you ever get to that point where everything feels okay? Where everything finally comes alive and you don’t feel this way? Will I ever feel like I am living?

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I just want an excuse to disappear. Become another blurry mass in the crowd of slow motion living. Instead I sit and watch the mockery everyone makes of themselves. I watch everyone move slowly as an exaggerated version of themselves. This isn’t what I want. This isn’t what I imagined my life to be. I can’t help but feel trapped around the same things and the same people. Every last one of us wanted a reason to disappear. Drinking and smoking away every last bit of our selves to feel something. Anything. I just want an excuse to stay awake because its the nightmares that keep me up at night. Its the thoughts of loneliness and sadness that can’t stop once they’re settled under my skin. Hurting myself can only go so far and once I exhausted all my resources, how much more of the destruction do I have left.

I am too deep into my self destruction to get myself out of this mess. I just wish for this all to be over. The tears, the numbing, the nightmares, everything. Maybe not today, but soon. Until then I’ll sit here disappearing into the clouds and wishing for something else. Anything else. This road to happiness and my many ways of pursuing greatness.  Maybe someday.

I’ll be fine once I get it, I’ll be good. 

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7/1/2009

I wish that it would rain.

Dark clouds roll over the clear blue skies. The greys and slates covering every inch of white clouds. Every inch of clear sky becomes vanished in the blanketed covers of the gloomy surroundings. The still of the air transforms into a chill that awakes your bones. You wish for it and you want it. You yearn for this gloominess feeling to stay, comfortable in your layers of never ending clothing. Your armor that shields you from everything and anything. It’s only the darkness that comes in. Everything else is just filler space. The chills, the shadows, all just awaiting the storm.

Waiting patiently.

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I stare at my shoes glued to the pavement. I wrap my coat tighter. Watch my hair dance in sequence with the wind from the corner of my eye. How I wished it would rain, right where I stood. Wishing the rain that fell would flood the grounds that I walk upon and swallow me whole. That all this darkness stood for something, anything besides the illusion of a storm. Watching the leaves fall from the trees and circle in motion beneath my feet. Still I wait. I wait in the cold for any ounce of rain to hit my skin. To fall to the ground and carry me home. Any thing to wake me up from this feeling. This feeling of doubt and sadness that needed a setting to escape to. I listen to the sounds of the rumbling in the clouds and wait for the rain. I watch the clouds anger and light up the dark skies, still I wait.

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I wait patiently.

Sadness has a way of wishing for storms. Wishing for moments to allow the darkness take ahold of the madness you’re feeling inside. I didn’t care. All I wanted was an answer to the skies that blistered with aches. Answers for this hurt feeling of sadness mixed with madness. Still I wait. I pray silently that the rumbling turns into a thunderous rage. That the skies would release their madness in form of tear drops disguised as rain. Then it would matter, then everything would make sense. Watch the rain slick the grounds and cover every inch of the streets. But the skies fail me. They only taunt the feelings and silence the emotions. I watch the skies continue to dark with night and not a drop of rain fall.

Still I wait.

The skies would eventually have to fall. Eventually the weight of the world would hurt the shoulders of the clouds and they’ll have to fall apart. I look up to the skies, close my eyes, and continue to wish for the sky to fall. For the winds to give answers to the cold. For the darkness to answer to this way I am feeling. I won’t run away. With my head in the clouds, I will stay close to the ground and my feet glued to the pavement. I will wait until the I am washed of these feelings and baptized into new sentiments. Wait until the rains fall from the heavens, until they can’t rain no more. Still I see nothing, still I wait.

We are familiar with the smells before rain that guide us into our sadness. Knowing that eventually waiting for never ending droughts, will get us no where but feeling silly for the waiting game. Still I wait. Wait for change, wait for growth, and wait for the rains to fall and hit me whole.

Any minute now, just a little while longer.

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3/13/2014

Food vs. Debt.

The moment you believe you have everything all figured out is the moment you realize you don’t. For the most part I have my debt under control. However, Debt is always that dark cloud that looms over me. Debt is a funny word with horrible consequences. Who would have ever thought that a word so innocent looking could hurt so much. Its like a bad relationship you can’t escape from. No matter where  you turn, your Debt is right behind you. Taunting you, ridiculing you, and overall just proving to you that you can never get over them.

DEBT in all it’s magnificent, no mercy glory.

I personally hate being in debt. Well lets be really honest, who honestly likes being in debt? Any which way I can pinch a few pennies to reclaim my balance in my life, I just about do. While I have drastically cut out a lot of unnecessary spending, I keep finding myself missing a few hundred dollars. Where exactly does my money go to? I have stopped excess shopping. I have stopped purchasing countless clothes, accessories, shoes, and beauty supplies. I have even stopped purchasing books, notebooks, and supplies. Where else could my money be going? Every dollar is accounted for. I have budgeted all of my expenses and narrowed them down to all the necessities. But what on Earth can be taking a few hundred dollars. While I do put some money into savings, where does the rest of my money go? Thats when it really donned on me.

Food.

I have had problems with food for as long as I can remember and I am no stranger to talking about it on this blog. However, while I have my food problems under control, I cannot manage to control my stress eating. A majority of my recent weight gain is all due primary because of stress. When I have anxiety or if my depression hits an all time low, I eat. Somewhere in my crazy mind, eating relaxes me. I love to eat just as much as the next person. On top of that, it has taken me a long time to be okay with eating. The truth of the matter is, I don’t just eat, I binge. If I am having a crappy day, I’ll go to the grocery store and buy countless things, primarily junk food. Most days I can calm the nerves but once my anxiety hits it’s back to the bottom. It doesn’t stop there, it’s the eating out, its the drinking, its the fancy coffee here and there. It’s not just once a week. Most times its 5 times in one week. Then the next week comes and it starts all over again. While my savings shows me that I am saving money, my bank account shows that I cannot control my spending urges when food is involved.

Depending on season, time of day, and even weather, on average I spend about 100 dollars a week on food. This including the sit down meals, fast food, trips to the grocery store for snacks, coffee from coffee shops, etc. This doesn’t including the tips and gas. On average 100 dollars a week is why I cannot have nice things. I am losing money all for the sake of a good time and my sanity. Instead of finding creative ways to curb my anxiety, I turn to the one thing that always comforts me, food. Food to me is this huge comfy security blanket that I count for everything. If I am having a bad day, it makes it all go away. It makes the feelings of self doubt disappear into the feeling of no self control. I can’t control the urges. As much as I think I have everything under control, I find myself like clockwork holding on to the things I shouldn’t have. It’s easy to say that I can stop at any time. That I can easy calm my nerves and find ways to use all this crazy energy for other things. Just when I am at my weakest moments, I can’t seem to bring myself to do it. While I applaud myself for my efforts in saving money, its the little vices I can’t help but do. A $100 dollars a week does eventually add up. It shows that while I have stopped purchasing things I don’t need, I still can’t stop the urge to shop for something.

In a way I have transferred my need for things into my need for food. Just as clothes and accessories were excuses for temporary happiness, now food has become that way. Everything is a work in progress and while I am happy that my love for food has returned, I still can’t help but use food as another crutch. I am not saving money if I am still buying unnecessary things. I am not being healthy if I continue to use food as my stress reliever. Lately I have found myself avoiding grocery stores when I am feeling down. I have to second guess my need to get fast food, and limited my coffee drinks to at least once a week. While I still have my urges to buy snacks, its not as drastic as it was months prior. While I still have problems dealing with anxiety and depression, I have to find creative ways to get this energy out. At least I know where my money is going.

Food 0
Debt $400

UGH.