Horrible.

My computer got stolen, I got sick, are left with a headache and have to work from 5 PM till midnight tonight. I feel the need to cry my heart out. Anyone any suggestions on how to do that?

Stupid.

Thinking I could cut my hair a bit cos it will 'look nicer' and discover that I can no longer make a ponytail.

The game.

I stopped playing pool 'cos nice ex who abused me was the one who brought the game to my attention. I didn't want anything to do with the game. Stopped doing competition, quit the team. My cue lay dusted in some closet.

Then came the tournament, here in town. A big national thing. And I decided to go and see. Watching on tv would be painfull, that was another thing ex and I used to do together, but going would be ok. In the newly opened pool supply shop I met a friend, who showed me her new cue and asked if I didn't want to compete in the tournament. Me? Play? No... A world of no. I could, I musn't. I had no team to be in to begint with.

The next day I meet my friend again. I have suddenly decided that I'll do it. I'll play. We go and retrieve my cue from under boxes and undust it. And, we plot the murder on my ex. Because, of course, the reason that I wasn't able to play for so long should be eliminated. So, not in any need to keep our voices down, we walk inside the club where the poolregistration is kept. And there he is. Ex.

Completely ignoring the restrictions of being in the same city as I am placed upon him by law, he's sitting there. Probabaly wanting to see the game himslef. Raging 'cos we want to kill him, maybe also 'cos I allready made it inpossible for him to compete by telling everyone how he abused me, he goes after us. We escape through the back door, over the fence, and head for the curch in which the tournament is held. And I feel wonderfull. I feel extatic. Even thought the best of Hollands players are there, I know I'm gonna WIN.

...

Alarm clock.

Is this my mind's way of telling me I should play pool again?

First-aid training.

I almost felt asleep during CPR lessons.

Bodydestruction.

For some time I want to be thin. Thinner. Thinnest. I don't have an eating disorder in the strictest sense of the word, I never manage to starve myself for more than a month or two, so I never really got thin enough to be anorectic. But the desire is there. Every day. 50 kilo's seems like a very nice weight to me with 1m75 in length. 48 seems better. I envy girls who weigh 25 kilo's, not 'cause I want to weigh that much, but because they have it. They have the strenght, the determination, the will to starve. To have pain, hunger for food all day and still take none. I am weak, for I cannot take the pain long enough to really lose some weight.

On the other hand, of course, I know my way of thinking is absurd. That my 67 kilo's is quite normal, that a little fat in 25 year old females who had babies is not uncommon, and that I am not ugly or fat at all. And on the account of 'being normal' (as far as possible) I wanted to cut down on my 'weird behaviour' and that includes starving myself and wanting to be anorectic. So I quit it, got all my diet lists of the wall and started to eat more healty. Or well, I try.

Maybe the fact that I had not eaten today had anything to do with it, in any way, I stumbled on a peace on the Olsen twins in my TV guide. Mary-Kate seems to have anorexia. So, stuck home due to fear of strangers outside and even though I'm no fan (though Full House was OK in their days), I spent hours googling for the right foto. That one picture of her so skinny that was good enough to be on my log. That would show what I want, what I need, what I crave for, what I feel but will never have.

Of course I didn't find it. But the feeling of 'wanna wanna wanna' and 'why she?' has not went away...