I Can't Get No Satisfaction

The majority of the time I feel like I'm not a significant person to anybody besides my mom but today I didn't feel that way.  I spent the day with my Sis, just me and her, which is rare since she's a mommy now. I realized today that there are certain things that she can talk to me about that she really can't with other people.  They have to do with her husband she told me that she can only tell me because I can be open minded about the situation and still love her husband at the end of the story.  And I won't go postal.  It felt good to hear that and I hope that my advice makes her feel better.  I like being the person that people can talk to.  My cousin from Visalia was telling me some her and husband things too, it kind of amazes me that they are comfortable with me, of all people, to talk to about their relationships.

I know my name means wisdom but... well, you read my blog!  No wisdom aqui!  Just a sarcastic & disordered little mexican! (little like short) (obviously)

^ I wrote the above yesterday. ^

I've been trying to write but I feel so uninspired.  I have no material, only thoughts and even my thoughts are dull.  I get lost inside myself and I see the world as if it were television, it's not real.  I watched this show where this girl is sitting in an empty house with a laptop, an iPhone, a book and a TV and although she gives attention to each-a blog or two on her laptop, flip the station on the TV, read a couple pages during the commercial break then browse through the twitter feed on her iPhone but none of it penetrates her mind.  She looks around the room but nothing pops, it may as well be in black and white-no color, no texture.

She wonders where the time goes, it's only been an hour since her last meal but she wants to eat, she is not hungry but she wants food, not just one thing but everything.  She wants to taste sweet and salty and sour, feel the textures on her tongue-crunchy, creamy, crisp and mushy.  She eats a half an apple but it is not sweet, she eats a tangelo and there is no substance.  She looks to the cupboards, cereal might do it but it needs more saltiness (sunflower seeds) and it needs to be sweet (dried cranberries) but it looks so dry, yogurt would make it creamy.  And so she eats and her bowl is empty, it's as though it were never there at all; she is not satisfied.  There is no taste in her mouth, fullness in her belly and somehow the craving is stronger.  Perhaps she took the wrong approach, maybe she needs something different.  Pseudo pizza.  A rice cake, cheese, tomato sauce x 4? 5?  All she knows is she wants more of something but it's just not possible, there are too many calories inside her and her weight is already a humiliating number. 

She chugs water until it hurts and bends over the toilet with fingers probing the back of her throat.  Her gag reflex is not of the sensitive kind, she tries to dig up thoughts and pictures to get her body in the mood but if there were a face to her thoughts the expression could only be described as stoic.  Her finger presses deeper moving from side to side, to and fro.  Each time she pukes, it's not enough, it lacks substance, the sustenance is still inside her.  

Finally she calls it quits, not because she wants to or because she is empty but because her body is denying her.   If I just don't eat the rest of the day, she thinks... only she wants to eat more.  She wants the taste on her tongue and the textures in her mouth but it never lasts long enough and only leaves her wanting more.  She goes back to the couch, flip the channel, skim a blog, browse the tweets, read a page, the kitchen tugging at her thoughts... wash, rinse, repeat.

I am a shell of a girl, growing on the outside, shrinking into nothingness from within.  There are people who need me here and love me but the bulk of my time is meaningless.  I feel like life is leaving me, I don't know whether to fear or look forward to the day that it goes completely.

I hide from the world in the confines of my home, only my mom sees how cut off I am from the rest of the world.  She has hopes for me and maybe it's this hope that keeps me hiding my isolation and trying to seem normal to the rest of the world.  Perhaps, even she believes that I am mostly normal.

How can I be normal if I don't even feel real?

I feel like I am waiting for life to happen to me, like some window needs to be opened up for the life to come through.  Why waste a life going unlived, surely there is hope that life will happen.  Or am I slowly being edged out until I can no longer be of use.