There are so many things inside that I haven't put a voice to. Maybe I'm scared. In a lot of ways I feel inept at a lot of things. I wish I could be eloquent and opinionated and thoughtful. Word vomit. It's all over your new shoes...
Truth is, I'm tired of politics. I hate the two-party system and I don't foresee any real change happening with either candidate. It's a gridlock and to see people constantly arguing about who is better just drives that point home.
Truth is, I'm furious at myself for letting myself be 30 pounds heavier than I should be. For the past three years, and for reasons that I have not reached yet, I've battled with a binge-eating disorder. I've done the spectrum of eating too much and eating too little. I've dragged my body through hell. And now here I am, fighting these mental demons that tell me that I will never get better and I might as well enjoy that donut. Battling myself is one of the toughest things I have ever done. It has led to depression, stress-fractures, low self-esteem, acne, nightmares, and a whole slew of other symptoms. I am furious.
Truth is, my job drives me crazy sometimes. I need the bookings. They aren't always happening. At the same time, I'm grateful for the slow days. It fuels my laziness. And that makes me feel like an awful person. I am so excited and so scared for my next career endeavor. I want to work 40 hour weeks. I want to feel like I accomplished something.
Truth is, there's a lot more on my mind. But now I've made myself sad.
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