20.

my life was packed into 3 boxes today,

2 more boxes to go.

moving is so strange... because i've

been looking forward to this since i was in

primary school.

and now, all i want to do is never leave.

19.

i hate lies.

the end.

18.

today,

i realized,

that without anti-depressants,

in my system,

i,

am,

a,

suicide risk.

it's a good thing i'm getting some more tomorrow.

17.

finally home,

but now the grandparents are in my

turf, so i can talk back, and fight

for my right to be happy

but, it isn't home for long

because the big move is in a week...

can you imagine? it's scary,

because all i want is to

have a place to call home. but home

is something you only truly have once,

a place where you can forget about life

and just sit on your couch all day

and be you. you can cry in a home,

and laugh, and starve, and eat,

and it's yours. but once you move

out, you spend the rest of your

life living in hotels, writing on

hotel paper, and

never getting that home feeling again.

but you see, the thing is,

without home, i'm just a person

breathing, crying, starving, eating,

without a family, writing on hotel

paper.

16.

on vacation.

without medication.

grandparents... "that sweater won't fit you,

you're bigger than me"

"you are going to fail"

"you look alright"

without medication.

starting to feel again, which is better than

numb, sometimes

but the tears don't feel good at all

sleeping pills.

i could take a few.

i didn't know it would be this bad

but, the grandparents make

everything worse. because they hate having

fat

grandchildren. they are fit as fiddles.

it takes everything

in

me

to

forget.

15.

something prestige about this city

something is different about it, quite filled with life

and beautiful people

you are never alone, and it feels like

popcorn.

i can't get enough of the air, so i

keep breathing deep, hoping to keep as much in

me as possible.

you are never alone, and it feels like

syrup.

sticky, cool, and sweet, and even if you say you don't

want any, you always end up putting more

and more on your pancakes.

you are never alone, and it feels like

diet coke.

no matter what, i don't feel guilty drinking it in

even if there are a million reasons why

i shouldn't. no guilt in no calories.

i love this city, and i love

being able to put my feet on the dirt pavement

and just be.

like popcorn, like syrup, like diet coke.

14.

across the street from me is a busker, cross

legged, dark green fedora (an accessory normally

frowned upon by me, but is excusable is you are

sporting a guitar) and closed eyes

i can't here what he's playing, because i am

inside the cafe, and he is out,

but he looks so enraptured with his music that

i wonder if he ever gets self conscious.

i would like to sit beside him, good music or not

and just listen. because even though i can't hear him

and i can't listen

he is already my favourite musician.

13.

day one, a fast of epic proportions

and that means that tea, water, and diet coke is the only thing i have consumed.

it's so strange, the rush you get from not eating...

still, after years of this, nothing feels more satisfying,

more disgusting. i often wonder when i'll feel something a bit better,

a bit more natural.

of course, i've cheated, because weakness runs

in the family, i consumed 600 calories of shit i didn't need

in my system. or do need, but don't want

and now i'll spend the rest of my evening feeling

like everything, when all i want

is to be nothing.