three-hundred & twenty-six.
... and then I realized that the only answer that will ever be one hundred percent true, the answer to "why did you do it" is "because I hate myself". I hate myself. And it's a hate that's so profound, a hate I've never felt for anyone in the world -- because no matter how much I say I don't like someone, I hate myself more. And it sucks. It sucks because my mom tells me "no one will love you if you don't love yourself". It's an impossible task to ask of someone.
And I don't believe it. Because I think people love me, and I'm so confused because I can't see what others see in me. I think that maybe I'm blind. I have to be blind, because I don't think people lie to me. I look at myself in the mirror, and I think -- how can a person hate themselves so much just by looking at their reflection? I tried to count how long it took to stare at myself in the mirror before I started to cry. 49 seconds. Not even a minute.
I'm going to stop drinking Coke. I'm going to limit myself from most sweets to just chocolate. And I'll go on the bike thrice a day. I'll drink at least five glasses of water. I'll eat apples when I remember to. I'll walk to Marketplace from now on -- no more busing. And I'll find time to do yoga twice a week.
I don't want this. This hate is toxic. There was a moment a few weeks ago where I was lying on my living room floor, and the sun was falling over my face, and I closed my eyes. And I felt content, because it was such a perfect moment in time. I don't want perfection in my life. Maybe I don't even know exactly what I want.
Happiness. Contentment. Answers to all my 'why's.
There's a hole inside of me that no one can ever fill up. And I'm so afraid of letting people get close because I hate myself so intensely, that I don't think anyone will ever see all of me. I try, and I welcome the closeness of someone pressed against me, and then it's gone. Everything is so fleeting.
Victoria and Sam are slowly forgetting about me. But it's okay. Maybe I'm just not meant to have anything worthwhile. Anything worth keeping. I wish I could blow away in the wind sometimes. Soar up above the city like a plastic bag, rustling my way to freedom.
I hate what I've become in this life.
But I hate what I won't become even more.