Friday, December 05, 2008

All because of Pop Tarts

Yes, as I stood there over the toaster making our morning treat for this week... Pop Tarts, I started to think.
To be honest it wasn't the morning, because I am getting up later and later these days... people comment on my weight loss - well the secret is sleep - if you don't get up till tea time, then you don't eat until tea time.
I feel guiltier by the day, I know it is the meds but everything seems so dull. I am a lot more aware of myself than I used to be - on the train home this evening I couldn't even eat for fear of other passengers watching me. I don't really phone my Mum unless I have to, because I can feel in every word she says the utter disappointment, the confusion - the wondering how her daughter could have messed up so much.

She doesn't know the half of it, that's what gets me.

If she's judging me by what she knows then what about the rest? She has no idea I've been on benefits... that I live off Will instead of a job... that I turned that 'nice boy' against me all by myself. Her tone cuts me right down into my soul - because if she thinks that what she knows is bad, then what on earth would she think of the rest?

I find myself less and less concerned for the people I have left behind, after all it was being in that environment that put me in hospital after hospital... wasn't it? I don't even know anymore... perhaps the bipolar wasn't from past trauma, perhaps it wasn't from extreme stress...

Maybe it is all I am, and all I have ever been.

And then the toaster goes and all of a sudden all my thoughts are channeled into how on earth I'm going to get it out...

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