10:18 p.m. - December 15, 2001
lethargy
oh, hello. nostalgia has gotten the better of me, staring and reading my last entry for ever and ever, wondering what it would be like if I still thought like that, and if people would have continued to put up with me for that long of a time. I have realized something; I hate medication. It fools you and fucks up who you are inside, and does it all under the facade of making you feel healthy. oh, if your meds are keeping you every day from jumping off the roof of your building, then, by all means, take them. I'll tell you something though, I wish you didn't have to. I wonder if people can ever really learn to deal with issues mentally if they're obscured by drugs. I'll never know if I was righted by my own doing or by the fucking Paxil. And that's a blow to my ego. I say I'm all overcome and strong and how I beat the disease, but fuck, I didn't do anything. what am I supposed to say? I swallowed a pill and IT beat the illness. Wonderful. at least now I'm out from within its grasp.
I've always meant to take up something meaningful. Start practising a form of spirituality that would calm my nerves, and maybe, later, make me have a kind of epiphany. Or at least a mad hobby, be hard-core about something. Something people could think about when they associated something with me.
Also, exercise. I tell myself I will get up and move. I say I'll do sit-ups... I can feel folds around my stomach that I've never felt before. I've hit 160. It doesn't help to have my dad telling me I'm flabby. Of course, he thinks Calista Flockhart has the perfect body, but I digress. I should do something about it. But I don't. I should get all heavy-into smething. But I don't. I should, most of all, get up off my lazy butt. But I don't. Why don't I?
I have this routine in the summer months wherein I get way way too much sleep. At least eleven hours a night, because I have nothing to get up for. When I go to bed in the summer, it always takes me three or four hours to fall asleep, because.. what does my body need sleep for? It doesn't want it. It wants to be up, running around, burning fat, burning energy, at the very least burning brain cells, but I am by nature quite catatonically inclined. A body at rest will stay at rest; etc. The more sleep I get, the more lethargic I am. It's vicious.
And that's what nobody understands, about why I really want to go to Boulder, even though it isn't the best school, academically, that I applied to. They think it's the location, and it is, it is, but it's more than that. Everyone there is so healthy, so active, so up. They hike and they ride their bikes and they ski in the mountains in the winter and climb the rocks in the summer. I need to be surrounded by something like that; I don't want to become a catatonic, deep-thinker all the time, sitting on my couch. I don't want to be sitting in Ohio or Wisconsin, no matter how good Oberlin or Madison is supposed to be, buried in snowdrifts and lazy air and flat-land, with no motivation whatsoever to go anywhere. I grew up in the Midwest. I don't need to continue there, on my ass, always, always, on my ass. Lethargy is bad. It is. Motion is the natural state, it energizes you, it refreshes you.
I completely defeat the purpose by sitting here and writing about it like this. I can feel the fat around my stomach settle in folds. And I sit here and write about movement being energizing. God, this is what I fucking hate about myself sometimes. Thoughts don't compute into action. I'd go out running, but it's freezing. Illinois winter next to Lake Michigan. Wonderful. You see why I want Colorado? So it's a stupid reason, Mom and Dad, but I need a change.

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