Why hello there. Where did the day go? I had a few break downs last night. I felt like I was going off the edge. Nothing was right. Nothing is going right. I was crying and crying like a pathetic girl or an infant of some sorts. I just wanted to feel. I read a quote yesterday that read, “Crying doesn’t indicate that your’e weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you’re alive.” I wanted to believe it, I pondered over this quote for a while too. I came to the conclusion that I defied this quote. I hate crying. I absolutely hate the weak feeling I get. I never used to cry in front of people. Even now, I hold up this semblance to hide it. There was a reason I’ve always done this. I laid on my bedroom floor this morning after walking upstairs. Just laying there. Eventually, I made a failed attempt at stretching to ease the stress and tension built up from within. I heard my dad wake up (which he normally does at this time to use the restroom) I thought it was weird that he took a long time in the bathroom. I knew he wasnt going and figured he knew I was still awake. I know he is aware I’m going through a hard time right now. I felt him just standing in the bathroom waiting for me to move. Despite the wall separating us, it was like a hug. Pops did last year when I got down to my lowest point of anorexia, when I succumbed to the evils of her. He and I never slept for weeks because he was so afraid that I’d die- he couldn’t handle all the guilt of not realizing. He would pace the upstairs and downstairs for hours until he had to get ready for work or just took meds to sleep. The darkness which swept the room embodied my soul. I felt the chills from outside creep into my room. Then just like a cat being ambushed by water, it left without warning. Burning heat. No air. No room to breathe. That was all I felt. My face was dried out from the tears and the groggy feelings of exhaustion from the night. It was that daily battle feeling. That feeling I get every night when I have that “Its finished” mantra. I started to feel this more so in the past few months where my battles were fought and I can’t do anything else with it. Its done. I picked myself up with the creaking floor boards making loud statements. My father heard. He moved as I did. I pulled off my sweater, and just stood by my bed caressing my bare naked skin. It was a reminder that I’m still physically alive. I climbed into bed, as my dad walked out of the bathroom. Silence. No doors opening or closing. I could tell he was on the other side of my door standing in front of it; staring. Not a sound. Not a sound. What felt like minutes later, he walked back into his bedroom, door creaking with the opening and closing of the knob. I heard him get into bed. I was comforted by the fact that at least he was in his safe haven yet again- not worrying too much about me. Check my phone one last time, look around room at the more visible objects, feel my bare arms. The calming whispers coming from the wind outside let me know it was okay to fall asleep. I woke up in a sweat to the front door opening and closing several times. My father went out and I figured it was too early to wake up. I reached over to check my phone. 12:38 p.m. I wondered how I could sleep that late. Remembering I didn’t get enough sleep, I got my ass out of bed to get dressed. All I could think about was how I needed to improve my sleeping habits. I needed to get on with the day. Its weird how sometimes I scare myself. Is it possible to scare yourself to the point of happiness? I once thought so. Until next time, get some snooze time.