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Deviation Actions
One is when your boyfriend/girlfriend steals your food. You get tiffed and you argue. The argument turns into yelling. One thing leads to another and suddenly you're single. It is when your mother judges you for your edgy phases and you may have overreacted by yelling until you cried and could no long talk. It is when you get an F on that quiz that you studied so hard for. You want to drop out, but your contract says otherwise. It is when your boss tells you that she is cutting your hours to make room for the new girls. Your money is slipping, but you've got no real responsibilities yet, anyhow. It is wet, it is slow, but it is already over.
The other is your reaction when your baby boy calls you crying from the skating rink, saying someone tried to burn him alive in grave detail. It is what freezes you momentarily as your husband drives like a bat out of hell to get to your one and only son. It is the pain inside your chest when you see he has second to third degree burns up and down his arms. It is what drives you out of the hospital room at 3 AM, when your son is asleep, when the rest of the world is supposed to be asleep. It is what fuels you to siphon the gas out of nearby cars into a bucket you found in the janitor's closet of the hospital. It is what keeps you calm as you go to the boy's house whom terrorized your boy; you have inside sources that have given you your needed information. You know he's home alone and a heavy sleeper. It is what encourages you to surround his house in gasoline. You check the windows of the house to find an open one - and, bingo- you find one and crawl in. It keeps your hands steady as you pour the remaining fuel outside the boy's bedroom door. It dulls your emotions as you light one, two, three matches and toss them outside his door, in his living room, and on his front porch steps. You walk across the street and sit in someone else's yard and watch the disaster you just created blossom. You hear faint screams of agony come from the house and sirens in the distance. There were witnesses. It is what makes you think this was all worth it, until you are no longer able to hold your injured son's hand.
The other is your reaction when your baby boy calls you crying from the skating rink, saying someone tried to burn him alive in grave detail. It is what freezes you momentarily as your husband drives like a bat out of hell to get to your one and only son. It is the pain inside your chest when you see he has second to third degree burns up and down his arms. It is what drives you out of the hospital room at 3 AM, when your son is asleep, when the rest of the world is supposed to be asleep. It is what fuels you to siphon the gas out of nearby cars into a bucket you found in the janitor's closet of the hospital. It is what keeps you calm as you go to the boy's house whom terrorized your boy; you have inside sources that have given you your needed information. You know he's home alone and a heavy sleeper. It is what encourages you to surround his house in gasoline. You check the windows of the house to find an open one - and, bingo- you find one and crawl in. It keeps your hands steady as you pour the remaining fuel outside the boy's bedroom door. It dulls your emotions as you light one, two, three matches and toss them outside his door, in his living room, and on his front porch steps. You walk across the street and sit in someone else's yard and watch the disaster you just created blossom. You hear faint screams of agony come from the house and sirens in the distance. There were witnesses. It is what makes you think this was all worth it, until you are no longer able to hold your injured son's hand.
Blog 5: my adventure and tips to you
WARNING: all names have been changed in this and upcoming blogs to change the identities of both the deceased and the living.
I'm already sick of typing all this. I'm going to skip intricate details.
~~~~~
After breaking up with James, I tried so hard to fill the hole in my heart by dating. I started dating Obee, the guy mentioned in my previous blog/journal/thing. He, of course, broke up with me because of my eating habits. He wanted a full-figured girl, who didn't look sickly. Hell, I didn't and still don't look sickly. He also accused me of still loving James. You don't get over a two year relationship that quickly.
The next guy
Blog 4: How it started
WARNING: names in this and all upcoming blogs will be changed to protect the identities of both the deceased and the living.
This will be typed in a rush. I have to get ready for work within the next thirty minutes. I'll type what I can then finish it tonight. This will be about how I came to have "anorexic tendencies" but not full blown anorexia, because my BMI is too high for that....
~~~~~
Me: it's me or the drugs, James. I typed with angry tears streaming down my face.
James: Babe, I'm so fucking high right now. Come back when you're calmer. You're ruining my buzz.
Me: it's over.
I just ended the most serious relationship th
Blog 3 In My Absence
WARNING: all names in this and many upcoming blogs will be changed to protect the identities of both the deceased and the living.
So, in my absence, for those who care, I have been at the beach. Of course that means more pictures, but not many. We stayed pretty much stationary and most photos are of my family. Pictures of friends and family will not be uploaded unless approved by them or if you cannot fully see their faces.
This trip has taught me that I am myself and no one else. That and memes of your family are the absolute best, hands down. On a more negative note, it has taught me that my eating disorder has not fully went away.
Blog 2: Work
WARNING: in the upcoming journals, names will be changed to protect the identities of both the living and the deceased. Some events may be exaggerated, because that is who I am as a person. Enjoy my ramblings.
I don't like that warning, but it'll get better.
So I started work at Shoe Show yesterday. It honestly wasn't so bad. After a couple hours of paperwork, I worked a couple more with the public. There were some hard-to-deal-with customers, though. Luckily, I didn't have to consistently handle them. I've still got a lot to work on though.
Last night I met Ladawn and Chloe, another sales clerk and the head manager. Ladawn showed
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