Life.

Perhaps the only way to make it through life is to not care. The only way to avoid 'sticky' situations or embarrassing scenarios is to simply not care.

If we don't give a fuck about anything, life becomes redundant. After caring for so long, how does one stop?

How can I make life a little easier for myself?

Does what I'm taking seem to bother you? Well, that's ok.

It's all new. My room, this house, my hair, the job. My whole life is changing... I'm changing.

And still I can't sleep. Perhaps it is stress because we're in the process of buying a house, I've just started a job 5 days a week, which is killing me because I went from lounging around at home all day to standing and working. I know it comes with the territory of work, being tired all the time but I've been unable to sleep for a while. Ever since we moved down here, actually.

The whole thing was a little traumatic and blurred and then all of the sudden it ground to a halt. And we were stuck in a new house, rent piling up with no food in the cupboard. It's all sailing smoothly now but I feel drained. I'm trying to mend myself whilst doing the housework. I'm trying to sleep while serving customers. I'm try to be silent while blaring my music. I'm kind of trying to live as two different people. I know I'm going to go to bed, lay down and wriggle about for an hour before I finally drift off then one or two hours later I'll decide to move and I'm awake wondering what the time is, if it's too early to get up.

I guess for the past 2 months I've been running on adrenaline and the will to prove to myself that even though my heart has had it's first break, it could have been worse. Now things have slowed, life is back on track. I have a bed now, we are in an actual house, I have income my body is just realising that it doesn't really remember a whole lot from the last 2 months. I think when I'm 60 I'll have this massive gap in time from when I was 16 to when I was 19, I don't really know what happened, who I was seeing, what I was thinking. I've documented most of my teenage life and I look forward to reading and seeing it all when I've completely left this stage. For someone who didn't give two shits about her future, I sure kept track of my past.

My bouts of self loathing aren't as bad anymore. I don't feel a need to punish myself.

I wish I could sleep. I wish I could wake up refreshed and alive. I'm afraid I've turned into the shell of a human being, like all the other adults out there. And who do I share this worry with? My fucking blog.

I would walk 500 miles.

People have a right to judge.

As long as they have seen everything, done everything, smelt everything, heard everything, thought everything. And I mean EVERYTHING.

I know my situation is nothing compared to those who have hard time trying to find food for the family. But about a week ago we were trying to find things that we could sell to Cash Converters just to get fuel in our cars. After dealing with the chest pains that gave me I became more aware of how those that are actually facing financial hardship must feel. We see people wearing the cheapest clothes and shoes available and we call them poor or lazy. We judge. But we don't know what it's like to have no money. We don't fully comprehend a situation unless we are experiencing it. I think a lot of the Human Race's ability to sympathise has been lost over recent years due to events such as 9/11 and all the bombings that followed, as well as the natural disasters the world is throwing at as at a rate of one per year.

The saying "walk a mile in some one's shoes before judging them" has never been more true. After realising that my brother and sister would be bullied because we couldn't get the uniforms I thought, I am no longer in a position to criticise ANYONE on anything. Be it the car they drive, the clothes they wear or the way they do their hair. There is a reason behind why people do that they do.

Stuck in a rut.

Routines. Most people try to avoid them, I am one of them. Or at least I was... I'm a little drunk right now. People don't like routine because they don't want to be 'stuck in a rut' and that makes sense. The last thing you want is your life planned to the umpth degree. Spontaneity is essential in keeping things alive. There are somethings you can't really 'plan' per se, a baby, a break up, a miscarriage. Some find routines constricting, like having a tight budget or wearing tight pants. If you want to do something on a whim, you can't really because you've got to do the washing at a certain time so it's dried before dinner, you need to start dinner at a certain time so it's ready for when everyone comes home etc etc. I have come to live with such routines and they suck. No two ways about it, but there are some routines, smaller, more insignificant routines that help us live. Without stating the obvious of breathing, moving to get blood to the rest of your body, stretching to ease cramps, there are other routines. Such as our panic mechanism. We all have different ways of dealing with stress and panic and anxiety, most of these skills of dealing we have honed over time and we've found the perfect ways to contain the emotions. We may run the bath and while the bath is running we might find the trashiest novel or we might pour a glass of wine (tre cliche, no?) but it's a routine. Another scenario is thinking. So you've a lot of things written down to do tomorrow and just before you leave you organise how you're going to attack the list. This organisation is part of a routine. We might organise it so that we go to the closest places first or we may organise it so that the most time consuming are done last, how ever we organise it, we created that criteria based on honing a routine.

I think routines save us. Not the mundane routines where you find people killing themselves because it's the only way out. Some routines make travelling through life a little easier.

Boy, I can barely focus on the screen right now. I hope this all made sense.

There is something.

Numerology. I've always found it fascinating that when you add and divide and subtract numbers, you can be left with the same number all the time. And I didn't realise this was an actual study, I thought it was just me getting bored. If I was bored I could add the numbers in peoples birthdays and derive it down so that is was one single digit and that was their lucky number (of course the actual study of numerology is a little more detailed) and then I would try and find some kind of similarity between their 'lucky' number and the original birth date. I picked up a book today explaining all about Pythagorean Numerology. Most of my numbers end up being 9. My life path number, how ever is 27 (2+7=9). Can you fucking believe it? I've been obsessed with that number ever since I heard that there was a Club 27. Numerology. Something I can see myself believing because it wouldn't involve putting my faith in something that doesn't exist. Numerology is about understanding and interpretation and it doesn't have 10 commandments or a special calendar. It basically analyses you as a person and so far it's been right about me.

I can't remember if I've mentioned this topic before but I am completely and utterly sick of worrying about how my body looks. Sure, I don't like it and if I were a guy I wouldn't give me a second look. The point is, I have WAY more to offer than a 'hot bod'. I see people talking about how much weight they want to lose, some of those people I used to share this exact opinion with, it's amazing how much people change when you're not looking. If you're healthy, eating and walking I don't think it matters what you look like, we most definitely shouldn't be starving ourselves or purging everything that enters our mouths. It's unnatural. Womanly women are more attractive as far as I'm concerned and generally, they're the most confident in them selves, their looks and their sexuality. You won't see an anorexic, compulsive gym bunny saying how happy she is with her body. You'd be fighting a losing battle if you let that little voice in your head get the best of you. Sure, just lose 10 kilos, then perhaps 10 isn't enough, lose 10 more. It won't end. If YOU can't accept yourself for WHO you are and WHAT you look like, you never will. And neither will anyone else.

I learnt that. So now, fuck everyone that wants to look down on me because I enjoy wine and biscuits. Screw all the people that judge others on how much they throw up in a week. At least all the dumb idiots will have starved themselves to death or at least made themselves infertile so their genes won't spread.