Dear Anorexia

I want to cut the water
You "let" her drink
"Let" her eat
I want to cut that water
Slice it silly
Make it squirm
Burn
Hurt
You ought to die
Be cut off and Broken
Belittled
You mother fucker ­
How you drown these girls
Take them in your arms
As if to cradleÉ
Promising of hugs
To never come
And then it's a break
A hurdle
Fast forward to the finish line
Blurry lines
Boundary lines
Broken time
You eat at me ­ grind my soul
Rip me Pull me
Asunder
Under
Fuck her
You don't deserve her -
She is better
Legs spread
Because she believes she will get nothing better
And it's you who have convinced her
Told her
She isn't beautiful
When she is
Told her
She isn't worthwhile
When she is
She is
God Dam you
Shun you
Shame on you
I fucking hate you
Making her hate herself
Making her doubt herself
She'll ignore her insides for you
She'll discount her instinct
She'll do it all for you
Dancing until she passes out
And you will never come through
You will never reward
You will just punish
PUNISH
All the discipline all the anger all the punishment
None of the hugs none of the parental unconditional love
Not once
Not ever
But you'll manage to still replace her parents
You'll replace her friends
Who may not get it, may be ignorant
But at least they are fucking nice to her
You'll never be nice to her
You will eat her up
At the same time telling her she eats too much
You ugly fat fuck
How can this be happening?
Why don't you take the slimy boys?
The greasy ones who make uncomfortable eyes at everyone?
Why don't you take them
Bend them
Break them
Tear gapping holes in their lives??
Why don't you prey upon the murderers, the rapists
The thieves that will take anything as long as it's free?
Why are you messing with the vulnerable?
The unknowing teens?
Are you such a weak fuck
you have to pick the ones already hurting?
Take those who give themselves to you willingly?
Are you not even up for a fight?
You misleading mother fucker, you have no taste
YOU DISGRACE.
Skinny didn't win the race.

Who is Hey Jupiter?

A lot of people ask who this character of Jupiter is.She comes from a Tori Amos song called "Hey Jupiter"and here is who I think she is,based on the song and the music video for the song.I think the burning building signifies the girl in the videos life and the little girl who rescues the girl signifies the girls past life and who she used to be. The girl has got to the bottom of the hole shes in and has given up on herself.She has waited and waited for someone else to come along and save her from herself.She is so fed up of waiting that she has lost all hope and dosnt care anymore.But then at the end of the video when the little girl appears,she finally remembers the promise she made to herself so long ago-not to give up on herself.She realizes that in order for others to help her, she has to make the first move towards getting herself out.She finally realizes at the end that in fact, people have been trying to rescue her, but she has not noticed as she was so far in to her hole.

no one's picking up the phoneguess it's me and me and this little masochistshe's ready to confessall the things that i never thoughtthat she could feel andhey jupiternothings been the same so are you gay are you bluethought we both could use a friendto run toand i thought i wouldn't have to bewith you something newsometimes i breathe you inand i know you knowand sometimes you take a swimfound your writing on my wallif my hearts soaking wetboy your boots can leave a messhey jupiternothings been the sameso are you gayare you bluethought we both could use a friendto run toand i thought you wouldn't have to keepwith mehidingthought i knew myself so wellall the dolls i hadtook my leather off the shelfyour apocalypse was fabfor a girl who couldn't choose betweenthe shower or the bathand i thought i wouldn't have to bewith youa magazineno one's picking up the phoneguess it's clear he's goneand this little masochistis lifting up her dressguess i thought i could never feelthe things i feelhey jupiterso are you gayare you bluethought we both could use a friend to run tohey jupiternothing's been the sameso are you safenow we're throughthought we both could use a friend to run tohey jupiteri go from day to dayi know where the cupboards arei know where the car is parkedi know he isn't you

The Mercy Killings Of Our Eating Disorder Machines

Why do we keep doing it?
Even after we come up empty?
Why do we fight our bodies,
when we know, somewhere inside,
deep inside
that they are not the enemy?
Why do we choose to engage in this particular struggle
as oppose to another?
Maybe we're all more comfortable here,
limited, yes,
but somehow safe that way ~
confined within our shrinking selves
our own walls closing inÉ
Tucking us in,
a lullaby
no one else can hear.
But why do we persist,
even after we come up lonely,
in our self-imposed isolation,
year after year?
What do you expect will be different?
From yesterday to tomorrow?
From last month to next year?
At some point we all recognize the dance ~
the strange, comforting rhythm,
of sickness
followed by intervention
of promises
followed by broken ones
of secrets
followed by necessary lies
of just-once-more-getting-away-with-it
followed by our own fears,
our loved ones' criesÉ
That soon-painfully-predictable cycle
of ultimatums and boundaries and limits and lines
followed by the Hopelessness
felt even by the professionals,
by those that have been successfulÉ
That unbearable, sticky Hopelessness
that gathers speed and starts to nag at us
That tiny, silent sigh of relief,
underneath the showcase of protests,
when we are finally stopped by someone else ~
a doctor, a treatment center, a life support machine.
Is that the end we're hoping for?
Someone,
something,
else to support our life,
even if it's a cold, unfeeling machine?
Why do we go on, refusing to do it,
To support our own lives?
Why do we wait?
And suffer
and live
a life of pain
'til something, someone, else is forced to break in?
Why do we keep doing it?
Long after we know
that we will always come up empty?
Why do we fight our bodies,
when we could just start to believe,
somewhere inside,
deep inside
our cold, unfeeling eating disorder machines,
that our Body,
our Life,
is not the enemy?

Creative thought/Quantum Darwinism

According to quantum physics, anything anyone can conceive of is happening in its own quantum reality. There are an infinite number of these realities dreamt up by all of us. So why do we all seem to be sharing one particular reality? There's a theory I just heard about that tries to explain why.
Quantum Darwinism is kind of a natural selection, or survival of the fittest, of quantum realities. This theory is also known as the theory of Creative Thought. The more people experience a certain reality, the more real it is. It seems to make a difference, too, whether the circumstances of that reality are recorded -- the recording seems to stand in for another person experiencing it, raising the number of witnesses.
This explains why a hypothetical couple can disagree about how a certain conversation went, even though they were both there and participated in the same conversation. Since there are only two of them, the reality they experienced is fragile and easily warped by each individual's baggage and biases. However if the couple tape-recorded the conversation, they have another "person" (the recording) to shore up the reality they participated in and help them agree on it. If they have this conversation in the presence of several other people, the reality is going to be shored up even further.
So if you are ever trying to switch yourself from your current reality into another one -- perhaps a reality where you are rich and/or famous, or a reality where somebody you have an unrequited crush on returns your affections -- keep in mind that you may be the only person who's supporting that reality. The mass of humanity may be supporting the reality you are currently in, where you're a working stiff, toiling in obscurity, and/or where even by curing cancer or winning a Grammy award, you could never get that person to give a damn.
Believability seems to be the key. After I delve into this theory a bit more, I'll see what else I can come up with.

Why are you alive?

Why are you alive?What's the point in your existance?
Quite reasonable questions when you think about it.In fact, how many of you reading this have truly questioned these sorts of questions?It may surprise you, but it's probably a very small number. So why are you here?To get married?To get yourself a career?To just simply have a good time?Or to put it another way...To get married to someone you probably dont love or who probably doesnt love and have a 50/50 chance of getting a divorce?To make yourself a career only to have to retire and be stuck on a crap pension?I don't think so.
One day you are going to die. And you have to accept this. Most people think they are invincible,they think they can live forever if they want. Not the way you think mate, fat chance. Just to say, I am not saying this from a literalist christian attitude, my opinion of the christian view of death and the afterlife is that quite frankly it's a load of shite.
Because you ARE going to die. And the sooner you accept it, the easier it'll be when it finally comes along. This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time. This life isn't a break from another, it's not a seminar. You can't go through pretending it is because you're in for a big shock there. You may think this is bad, but trust me, where you are now you can't even imagine what the bottom will be like.
Only after disaster can we be resurrected, it's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything. Nothing is static, everything is appalling, everything is falling apart.
You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake, you are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are all basically the same. We are the all singing all dancing crap of the world. You are not your bank account, you are not the clothes you wear. You are not the contents of your wallet, you are not your bowel cancer. You are not your grande latte, you are not the car you drive. You are not your fucking khakis!
You have to give up. You have to give up. You have to realize that someday you will die. Until you know that, you are useless.
I say may I never be complete, I say may I never be content. I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth. I say evolve and lets the chips fall within me. There is no "Happy ever after".
But oh no, you're a christian, nothing bad can EVER happen to you can it?Sure you're kid is more likely to get molested by the priest at church than by a stranger, but hey, it's all in the name of god so it doesn't matter DOES IT! What the fuck is that? I'm sorry but something doesn't seem right here. You know, when I have a kid, should I send him to sunday school? So you can FUCK HIM? I'd be careful of who you trust in this world, because I certainly don't know who I can trust.
Here's a question. Have you ever wanted to do something that was supposedly "wrong" and wondered why it was so wrong? The thing is, a lot of the laws are made up just for the sake of laws, to keep people in check. Everybody has that natural instinct and I wonder whether by stopping it we're actually doing ourselves as a human race some damage. It's there for a reason.
Do you really know who you are? And when you automatically answer yes, ask yourself whether you really know that or you've just been taught it. Get what I mean? Is your leader a voice? There's a reason we have a rebellious instinct.

The inner experience

The first thing that you have to do, before you even start thinking about such a thing as contemplation, is to try to recover your basic natural unity, to reintegrate your compartmentalized being into a coordinated and simple whole and learn to live as a unified human person. This means that you have to bring back together the fragments of your distracted existence so that when you say “I,” there is really someone present to support the pronoun you have uttered.Reflect, sometimes, on the disquieting fact that most of your statements of opinions, tastes, deeds, desires, hopes, and fears are statements about someone who is not really present. When you say “I think,” it is often not you who think, but “they”—it is the anonymous authority of the collectivity speaking through your mask. When you say “I want,” you are sometimes simply making an automatic gesture of accepting, paying for, what has been forced upon you. That is to say, you reach out for what you have been made to want.Who is this “I” that you imagine yourself to be? An easy and pragmatic branch of psychological thought will tell you that if you can hook up your pronoun with your proper name and declare that you are the bearer of that name, you know who you are. You are “aware of yourself as a person.” Perhaps there is a beginning of truth in this: it is better to describe yourself with a name that is yours alone than with a noun that applies to a whole species. For then you are evidently aware of yourself as an individual subject, and not just as an object, or as a nameless unit in a multitude. It is true that for modern man even to be able to call himself by his own proper name is an achievement that evokes wonder both in himself and in others. But this is only a beginning, and a beginning that primitive man would perhaps have been able to laugh at. For when a person appears to know his own name, it is still no guarantee that he is aware of the name as representing a real person. On the contrary, it may be the name of a fictitious character occupied in very active self-impersonation in the world of business, of politics, of scholarship, or of religion.This, however, is not the “I” who can stand in the presence of God and be aware of Him as a “Thou.” For this “I” there is perhaps no clear “Thou” at all. Perhaps even other people are merely extensions of the “I,” reflections of it, modifications of it, aspects of it. Perhaps for this “I” there is no clear distinction between itself and other objects: it may find itself immersed in the world of objects and to have lost its own subjectivity, even though it may be very conscious and even aggressively definite in saying “I.”If such an “I” one day hears about “contemplation,” he will perhaps set himself to “become contemplative.” That is, he will wish to admire, in himself, something called contemplation. And in order to see it, he will reflect on his alienated self. He will make contemplative faces at himself like a child in front of a mirror. He will cultivate the contemplative look that seems appropriate to him and that he likes to see in himself. And the fact that his busy narcissism is turned within and feeds upon itself in stillness and secret love will make him believe that his experience of himself is an experience of God.But the exterior “I,” the “I” of projects, of temporal finalities, the “I” that manipulates objects in order to take possession of them, is alien from the hidden, interior “I” who has no projects and seeks to accomplish nothing, even contemplation. He seeks only to be, and to move (for he is dynamic) according to the secret laws of Being itself and according to the promptings of a Superior Freedom (that is, of God), rather than to plan and to achieve according to his own desires.It will be ironical, indeed, if the exterior self seizes upon something within himself and slyly manipulates it as if to take possession of some inner contemplative secret, imagining that this manipulation can somehow lead to the emergence of an inner self. The inner self is precisely that self which cannot be tricked or manipulated by anyone, even by the devil. He is like a very shy wild animal that never appears at all whenever an alien presence is at hand, and comes out only when all is perfectly peaceful, in silence, when he is untroubled and alone. He cannot be lured by anyone or anything, because he responds to no lure except that of the divine freedom.Sad is the case of that exterior self that imagines himself contemplative, and seeks to achieve contemplation as the fruit of planned effort and of spiritual ambition. He will assume varied attitudes, meditate on the inner significance of his own postures, and try to fabricate for himself a contemplative identity: and all the while there is nobody there. There is only an illusory, fictional “I” which seeks itself, struggles to create itself out of nothing, maintained in being by its own compulsion and the prisoner of his private illusion.The call to contemplation is not, and cannot, be addressed to such an “I.”

You still want your time machine huh?

At the heart of time is a stillness.A pendulum. Frozen.In the silence of nothing.Everyone would like to rewind time.Turn back the clock.Do things differently.But sometimes the best way to try to better the future isn't always about trying to change the past.What you have lived and experienced has made you who you are.If you rewind time.Turn back the clock.Do things differently.You won't be who you are.You'll be someone else. Somewhere else.And all the things that people loved about you will be lost.Like wasted rainbows.Down the drain.You just won't be you anymore.No doubt you'll be just as good-looking. On the outside.But on the inside? Where it counts. You'll be changed. Irreversibly.People won't know what they've missed, but something will be missing.Incomplete.Your heart maybe.So next time you long for that time-machine.To take you back.Right to the beginning.Maybe you should just be thankful.About what you've got.What you've become.What love surrounds your heart.And what life you have left still to live.You've made mistakes.Who hasn't?There a lot of people who are worse off.A lot of people who have made much bigger mistakes which can never be undone.A lot of people who have had their lives ruined due to no fault of their own.Or have ruined their own lives due to faults of their own.Don't let yourself by the next number in another startling statistic.Maybe you should just be happy.That you have all that you have.Freedom. Love. People that care about you.Because at the end of the day, nothing else really matters.So be happy.Follow your dreams.Follow your heart.Love who you love.Feel how you feel.Do what you want to do [as long as it's not too illegal]And be who you want to be.Because at the end of the day.It's your life.And nobody else's.Smile.Live for the moment.Live for every day.The bad ones and the good ones.The sunshine and the rain.Dream.Every night.Every day.Never push them aside.Or throw them away.Be honest. Be truthful.Have faith.Love.With all your heart.And your life.Will be much better than you ever dreamed it could ever be.Life. Is as beautiful as you want it to be.Please. Don't let yours fade away.No more wasted dreams.No more hopeless hopes.Go for it.Live it.Love it.Feel it.Hearts are like Tardis's. How big's yours?Don't. Ever waste time on what ifs and might have beens.Live every day as well as you can.The way you want to.Love. As you've never loved before.More people love you. Than you know.Open your heart.Open your mind.Open your eyes.To all the possibilities.All the love.All the everything.Smile.Dream.Live.Laugh.Love.:)