thinbimi

It seems funny, how I dont really care about everything that I am letting slide between the cracks.

dying. The air in my blood is tainted. Eaten away by sugars. Rotting inside my own skin.  The wind sways me back and forth I fall and have no reason to get up.  sleep. rotting in my own bed. thoughts itch. fingers glued into my mouth.  smelling sex. loveless and sex.

knowing that God is in my soul, heart, and mind gives me all the room I need to live life. I am a woman of respect (I hope), a woman of trust (I hope), a woman of laughter (I know), a woman of giving and giving (I hope) a woman in Gods name and power (more, more, more). He gave me rapid blood, so that my body dances. My body is natural and pedestrian I have been told when I move, and that is my proof that God has given me this gift with reason behind it. I often forget and I am ashamed that I do, because I shouldnt forget such a

How can I stay afloat in a world where everything is fearless and destructive? How can I overcome them all? In the past I too was not afraid of bringing myself down, and therefor fearless of brining others down with me. But I am not interested in that now. I am not interested particularly in anybody but my own. I do react, and i suppose I always will, it is my artistry, a part of how i cope. However often I am too weak to be trusted to react healthily. The pessimism that this world seems to revolve on is sickening, but you cant run from it, and you definately cannot hide from it. You must be strongly aquainted with giving up so that you have the knowledge how to fight and win. and although the race we run is against others, we are in it for our own. the power we have of our minds and the power our minds have to deliver what our souls want is almost superficial.  I love making the most of it. I love challenging it. I love malfunction. Now I am getting off topic. Now I. Now I. Now I.

Sex. Art. Death. SAD isnt it? Do you think that sadness is beautiful? I do. Yes, i am, have, is, are, will, can. Sex. Art. Death. Do you think that anger is beautiful? I dont, am not, havnt, isnt, arent, wont, cant. The guts of sadnss is a muster of bubbles in their most dense form, grown to teach lessons let me teach you a lesson, I am sad, and you are too. The act of anger is violntly arousing, it is whirling and destructive in its satisfaction, it is beautiful in eyes, not mind, not heart, never soul, no, never soul. Happiness is saved for the moments when anger and sadness combine together? is that inspiring, like rain on a sunny day and no rainbow? A down up up down up up in my ears? A musical pulse?

Sex is the pulse of my blood
Art is what my blood excretes
Death is coming of my blood,

Convinced that Happiness, Anger, and Sadness are the cheapest forms of living life, I am a slave to life, Sex, Art, and Death. I am chained down to breaking the barriers of my physical body, I am chained to art- it is forgivness in its most gracious form, art is the reason, and beat to each and every breath one inhales and exhales, to each quiver your lung shakes with, and every singe contraction your tongue makes and every last time your mouth opens to grasp onto the wind and sun and nothingness that it so survives on. Art is a cold itchy and pulsating bruise, it is eyes open, eyes closed, change, interpretation, confusion, the search, no outcome, a quiestion. Convinced that dreaming is the greatest river of possibility and life, I sulk in it, deeply, lust in it, uncomfortably, flicker my insanity on and off in it, fearfully in it. I too, am dying. Each day I keel over farther.I cannot help but sink into each sound i eat, my addicting and seemlessly necessary blood pulsates so quickly that my body moves, beyond any intention the realist in me coordiates. I dream about warmth, a warmth so vicsious it is fire, a fire that ignites a shiver that races through the center of my body and out my crotch. After my final day, and I am cut open, soft and icy on a greedy selfish bastard of a table, I expect you will find memories,grand and measley, gold at that. keep my blood if you can, some people cannot move at all, give it as a gift to them. please burry me with my feet pointed. and i will drop good memories of mine into your dreams. like raindrops.

I always assumed that after I gave a man all of mine that could be touched that I would be tied down and sick.
Instead, I find my fingers clenched onto myself.
Not giving up.
Not giving in.
Nobody's but mine.

Calling all artists. calling all artistry. are you with me? Do you see me? My words keep me frustrated. My movement is stiff and lonely. I cannot find reason. I cannot find stillness. I am not content. I am not fullfilled. My body i itching and I cannot scratch it calm.I am so inclined to peace and it comes so naturally but it is not what I need now, and it here now is making me so unpeacefull. My tears are dry and I need them so badly right now.  Am I drying up? Is this what reality does? I dont want it. Go away.

And to the world. Stop drinking. Stop smoking. Stop answering questions. Please mom. Please dad. You are pouring sand down my throat and I cant spit it out fast enough to save myself as I used to!

I am sad. I am sad and I didnt inflict it upon myself. I am sad and I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish I could I could be happy. For once my body doesnt feel heavy, but my soul...aches. I suppose I could have prevented it. We we naked, together, our two bodies pressed together. So soft, together. He touched me so sweetly. Today is my last day here, last night my last. But it was spent with him, My eyes are not virgin any more, my breasts arent mine for now. and neither is any other part of me. It was so juvenile yet so mature. It should hardly be spoken of, to savour the meaning and delight. But I must tell you so you know why my eyes burn so badly. Why I am longing and confused.

I pray that It will make me dance better than ever. Soon, I will have the poise of a woman. Soon, you will not be able to take your eyes off of me, while I glow I will dance. It is tomorrow that my heart is finally freed. My skin is crawling, I am almost irate.  When I start, neither of us will be able to stop.

The angel in my heart is preparing to leave, the music has begun, and I dont know that I can keep her locked up for much longer. I am turning inside out.

 I am feeling so optimistic about my life and body. I both move and ballet starts on Tue. I will have all the time and space to do what I need to do to be successful. I am also getting a new job-hopefully one busing tables or something.

My boyfriend is 100% unsupportive of what body I want and I was stupid to tell him.  I can see him dumping me soon. Cant wait to dance, Cant wait for a new body.

~thinking small.

PS. You gus can do it!!! the best support that we can give eachother is to be happy! Smile, find things that make you happy, music, nature, books, day dreaming, tea, baths, laughing...whatever! If nothing makes you happy then dont worry! Find it! Happiness is the key. We arent messed up, we are different. And that is beautiful- I mean, we all know what beauty is, am I right?

I have been either hungry from starving, or sick from binging for about 5 years now. I cant remember a time when I was sweet in the middle. And it sucks to be on either side.  I mean, the skinny part doesnt, but my attitude does. My newest Idea is to be really happy all the time. I feel as though when I am sad (a much too normal of an occurance) I dont accomplish anyhing, and even if I do, I dont really care. I havent seen my shrink in a couple months, and feel pretty good, so I think i can do it. Today I started a new diet...and cant wait to see how it goes!  hope you are all well

thinking small, thinking happy, thinking me, being sweet