I’ve been in a health kick for the last month, more seriously these past two weeks. I voluntarily go out of my way to take the long way, push myself to work 2-3 hours at the gym (or home), continually try new things (Zumba class, for one), wander around my neighborhood and get lost in the dusk, and so it goes. The feeling of sweat trickling down my forehead, onto my neck and soaking my clothes feels like a million dollars knowing that you put in the work and it paid off. Having been really lethargic and apathetic in the past, this new regime has put on some serious benefits, namely my daily patterns and attitude as a whole. I no longer yearn for naps in class, nor do I nosh on unhealthy, convenient food. For example, I took a nap after school and thinking it would go on for three hours like my normal coma naps, I awoke exactly in 30 minutes—energized, and ready to move! I made a healthy dinner, and I eat fruit like crazy. I’m starting to notice the bags under my eyes diminish and my interest in junk food revert to healthy alternatives. I’m still not getting the proper sleep I need, but I am so equipped with bubbling energy throughout the entire day, it’s really all so rewarding. I’ve been working out consecutively, waking up to sore muscles and tightened skin. Oh man, I’m so high off this, you guys. Ignore this post, or take my word. I’m back again, baby! Doing it right 2.0.
“I was glad that I wasn’t in love, that I wasn’t happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective. They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.”—Charles Bukowski (Women)
Walked to my friends house prior (one mile) then we went to the gym to hop into a zumba class. I left 3/4ths of the way because I made a mistake in wearing my hi-top Nikes and cramped up. Soaking in sweat with my One Man Wolf pack t-shirt, sexy.
When I touch her, my fingers don’t question what she is. My body knows who she is. The strange thing about strangers is that they are unknown and known. There is a pattern to her, a shape I understand, a private geometry that numbers mine. She is a maze where I got lost years ago, and now find the way out. She is the missing map. She is the place that I am. She is a stranger. She is the strange that I am beginning to love.
After lacrosse season last year (did not continue this year because junior year is stressful af), I became really apathetic about my body. It dawned on me at the gym after a lady coaching me to a plank and some ab workouts that I have a seriously weak core. All my tummy is good for is food. This needs to change.
To Do: - AP Psychology One Pager book report - Read Slaughterhouse Five (chp. 2-5) - Math Packet (pgs. 1-6) - Philosophy questions - English book assignment
——- I was on a steady stream of focus for the past hour, then it just went askew as it always does. I’ll compromise with a shower as my break (as if Tumblr wasn’t a big distraction already) then I’ll read/sparknote the chapters I need to catch up on and draw my interpretation of Billy Pilgram and Roland Weary with quotes and be done with this. I guess I’m to blame, I spent half my day in bed, the rest on the computer, or both at the same time if I can recall correctly. Life of a procrastinator, whaddup?
Would any of you guys willingly hang out with me in real life? I mean, I’m not as rough around the edges in person, rest assured. Just think, me and you—a vicarious thrill beyond the perils of the interweb, but in all actuality we’d probably just nosh (because who doesn’t like food) or sit in a bookstore and just read literature to each other (again, who doesn’t like books) and maybe if you’re lucky I’ll share my frozen fruit with you.
I dreamt that one of my ex’s started writing me letters during school and it was all heartfelt and whatnot. Then I went to some high class mall with my cousins while my parents were at the casino and we dined 5 star and ran around like the carefree children that we are. I woke up from a random number calling me asking if I was Edgar, to his dismay I am not. He asked if I called about proposing a marriage. He seemed angry. I was tired. End call.
Every time the clock strikes 12 a wave of emotion sweeps over me and I’m paralyzed by a desire for something not mine. I cry too easily as it is, but it’s like clockwork when these tears stream my face, making their way from my eyes to the crevice of my nose finding my lips. I don’t wipe them away because they’re a constant reminder that I am as raw as can be and I can’t deny these feelings. I’m lonely most nights, I won’t lie. I want my half to this whole, I am losing sight of how far I’ve come and letting myself go back to old habits. I’m just a hormonal teenage wreck.