Dismiss this crap.

Where are those woods?
Those men?
Those gallant trees?
You speak of them with high regard. Do they please?

These woods these woods- where do they reside?
Are they way out with the waters?
Stuck in the countryside?

How high the trees grow
Not a seed to sow
Battling the sun and the frosty snow.

I want to visit the place you speak
These woods these woods would do me good
Fresh air
Clean sky

Good by
Goodbye.

Let the journey begin to seek these woods
I have heard so much about.
How will I know I found the right route?
Will I know what I get there?
How do I declare?

Those woods those woods I wish to be in
I am crossing my fingers
Let the travels begin.

Happy New Year. Happy New Decade. Happy New Chapters. Happy New Alls.
I raise my glass to you. Thank you for reading. I love you.


Hej hej,

Any

A creative piece for your pleasure.

Mama always said to stay away from rum- rum is the devil's drink. One drink turns into two, and then into three- three into four. Then, you're in more trouble at the end of the night than from where you started. Though, at the time, you think you're fine. You just don't know what is coming to you in the morning. Just you wait.

Whenever I am in a shitty mood, I light a candle in my living room, put on some Prog Rock vinyl, and set a bottle of white rum on the coffee table. I have a half glass of Diet Coke, and a liter of water. Just pop off that top, and start drinking. Use the Coke to cut that alcohol taste, use the water to reset your palette.

Is this alcoholism?

It's sad, that's what it is. Just picturing this makes me feel like an even more miserable speck on the earth. Getting trashed in my own apartment listening to some scratched Yes record I picked up from Value Village last week- but, hey, we all have our thing.

After shot number three my sweater looks more interesting. After shot number four, the thought of turning on the Jonas Brothers sounds good. Don't worry, I don't give in- I successfully take out the Yes record to slip on an ELO album (also snagged from Value Village). After shot number five, I start to consider talking to 'them' again.
Nope. Not drunk enough. Shot six. (If you know you are going to get past this point, you should lock your cell phone in a safe to prevent drunk messaging)
I don't feel drunk...
As soon as my legs stand up, it is confirmed my assumptions were incorrect. Me skipping lunch and dinner so I could afford the Weight Watchers Points for this little drinking spree tonight really helped speed up the process.

Tomorrow morning is going to suck. Thanks to the Devil's Drink.

Thanks for reading. It's utter crap, but it was something from the top of my head. If I really really REALLY thought about what I wanted to write, it may have turned out better.

Hej hej,

Any

And so begins the purest confession I shall ever share in public.

Everyone has those moments where that little voice in the back of your mind keeps telling you something... and it just nags, over, and over- for years. It may be something pointed out by others, and when they say it- it doesn't bother you at all, but subconsciously, you wish they did not think that of you. Well, I have this thing- this issue, and I have finally 'come to terms' with myself over it, and I think writing and releasing it to the world will either help me or hurt me. I decided to take a risk and write about it anyway.

My name is Any, and I am a food addict.
How have I come to this conclusion?
Well, I am overweight. Technically obese, but that has a very negative connotation to it. By being clinically obese, that means that I am at least 30 pounds over my 'average' weight. When obese comes to mind, they usually imagine someone who is morbidly obese (over 100 pounds above their average weight). Though I work out like a beast (2 hours or more 6 days a week) and have been on athletic teams since the ripe ol' age of 7, I have always been heavy. Now, I'm coined as 'curvy.' I'm not totally dissatisfied with my appearance- I think I have a beautiful face, impressive skin, I am blessed with wonderful hair, 'perfect' teeth (my dentists have said so!), well-shaped lips, strong nails, the proportions on my body aren't bad. But, I am a food addict. I am not medically diagnosed, but I have been mulling on it for a while. I always feel guilty for my food choices at the end of the day. At night, before I fall asleep, I lay in my bed thinking, "Damn it, you need to be more disciplined!" and I scold myself until I drift off into my sleep.

Then I wake up the next morning, grab a venti drip coffee, pour in half of it with cream and 4 Splenda, and nom down on a poppyseed bagel with cream cheese in class. In class, I'll think if I have time to grab lunch or a snack before the next class. What will it be? When I get there, I grab both- I can have lunch, and save a snack for during class. Of course, it doesn't make it through class. Then I have practice, and before (even during) I'll think about what is for dinner. My mind gets distracted by the dessert options when the time comes to order, so I add that to my tab. I get home from dinner, have a snack then... and the cycle begins all over again.

Being home, away from school, it's worse. I just sit in the house all day, thinking of what to eat next whilst buttering a piece of toast.
And I keep telling myself, "Tomorrow... tomorrow... tomorrow you'll be on your track toward thin."

I plan vacations around food. Subconsciously- I YELP eateries in the area, ask the concierge for a list, and even people I know who have visited. People who are visiting places I have been ask me what to do, and I tend to list off places to eat first- before attractions, "San Francisco?! Oh, god- Boudin! Neptunes! Ghirardelli! Oh- Golden Gate, Haight St..."

My family points out how much I consume. My grandmother brags about the weight she is losing, "just by cutting out her carbs and eating smaller portions. You can do it, too!" My mother tells me to, "get out of the fridge- there's nothing in there that you need to eat." Out of spite, I eat more. I eat for 'revenge' and for comfort. To cure my boredom. I have moments where I tell myself, "You're never going to get this off of your thighs, give up." So I eat.

I am a food addict. I am living to eat, not eating to live. All of the wrong things. I am hating myself for doing it. I have done so well in the past by making changes, but then I get sucked back into the black hole of Food.
Food.
FOOD.

It's probably the worst thing ever. Because, you must eat to live. When you're addicted to what can aid you to stay alive... and you 'can't control' your intake, and it starts to make you feel miserable... people really don't know what to do. Those who are able to maintain their food intake usually give this advice, "just eat healthier foods- it's all about portion control. Exercise more," or, "you miserable fuck, you're just lazy. You're eating your way toward a disability, and it's going to cost me in the future with all of your medical costs you won't be able to afford because you won't be able to work. Get your act together."

Well, I can tell you this again: I am not lazy, I do not sit around all day, I work out. I am sure I have a healthy heart. Portion control doesn't exist to me. I try. This is why I am admitting to having a food addiction. It is going to take a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to get over this... but I know I can do it.
I just need to find the right support. The support from here on out. Forever. I know I can find it within me.

By writing and releasing this to the public forum, I shall forever have this to remind of what I need to accomplish. No more tomorrows.


Hej hej,

Any

The bronze medal.

Do you think it possible for runner's-up ever to have the chance to become winners? Bronze Medal's always get the shaft. Silver has a sliver of hope something was illegitimate with Gold. Bronze- it has to hope for Gold and Silver to both topple. That seldom occurs. What do they get to celebrate? Their praises? They were the second to lose? Do they feel any honor?

Have you felt honor being Third?

I want to fight. Fight for my Gold. But, those that have Gold give Gold to their children. And they explain to these children that they are to take great, great care of it and to never lose it.

Right now I feel like I am being handed Silver. I grew up with a family of Bronze, and a giant Silver medal around my heart. I am scared to let it go, but I am scared I will never get my Gold. I know I am supposed to be content with what I have been given... but I want to shine. I want my anthem to play. I want the people applauding for me. I want the tears in my eyes, and the honorable moment on me. I want that top platform. I want to be Gold.

I already know that I will do my best to never land back into being a Bronze.

I'm not worried about that.

Hej hej,

Any