A lot changes in that chunk of time.
I'm commandeering my brief, silly little blog for a higher purpose. Here's the deal, kiddies.
No one reads this, but it is still available to read, not just by people I know but by the entire internet-possessing world. The ability to create something and set it sail into the void like a toy boat into the sea has always been a source of wonder to me. I revel in chance and the unique experiences that it has brought me.
Now it may be my salvation. I have been sick for a long time. It is a mental weakness that I have been aware of all my life and with which I have endured an increasingly bitter struggle with since early childhood. I have been in and out of therapy since I was 13 for the various manifestations of this illness such as anxiety and learning disorders, cutting, depression and contemplated suicide.
A little over two years ago, I moved out of my parent's house confident that independence alone would give me enough space to grow and new opportunities to cure all of my problems. I was young, and wrong. Removed from all of my former meager supports, I now find myself all but consumed by my uncontrollable highs and lows. The friends I once had to talk to are now distant and unconcerned. The new friends I thought I'd make share very little in common with me, and to be honest, I feel that there isn't enough of me left in this body to make any labored attempts at forging new friendships worthwhile.
Look, you're getting bored already. So am I. I hate that the only substance left inside of me is my own decay.
Which is where Lube Penguin comes in. Silly name, but I'm not changing it. I think that if I talk about this enough-- if I bleed it out of me bit by bit-- I may start to get better. There are already small things that I have found which temporarily alleviate the symptoms of my illness.
I am not sure if this will be enough. If I wasn't so poor, I would have myself admitted to the full time care of professionals. The treatment that therapy offers is, if effective, emotionally taxing and physically exhausting. I have to balance my illness, the fight against it, and a full time job on my already fragile mental plate, and quite frankly, it is unbearable.
But I'm not giving up.
While I have always been sick, this turn for the worse has been extremely recent. Sometime in the last year the light has gone out from me. Sickness and all, I used to be a vibrant and functional person. That light was with me the last time I posted on this blog. I won't give up until I find it again.
I just want to be better. I want to experience the fullness and intricate beauties of life with a peaceful soul and open, uncluttered mind. I want to be someone who has ideas and dreams, ambitions and impulses. I used to be an incredibly imaginative girl, a good friend, an attentive lover, an artist, a writer. Now I am just sick.
The fact that no one reads this gives me the freedom to say whatever comes to mind, but the possibility that someone could is what instills a tiny seed of hope in my soul.
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