Quiet Conversation and Solitary Company

Can I say that I'm tired of being the adult here? Am I allowed to say I'm struggling? Am I allowed to struggle? Can't I just curl up in someone's arms and get a hug? I'm the adult and the "mom" for a lot of people. I put up a strong face and I smile and laugh and act happy so as not to make everyone else unhappy.

Am I allowed to say that sometimes it feels like shit?

"No! You're not allowed to feel like shit! You have to fix it and feel better! Feel better now! Do X or Y so that you feel better! Hurry!"

Does someone want to cuddle? I'm here and open for cuddling. I'll cuddle a complete stranger, I don't care.

Someone come tell me you understand and sit with me and put your arms around me and make me warm.

I am cold incarnate. I'm always freezing. My boyfriend says I'm the only person he knows who can be in a room and feel to the touch below room temperature.

Right now I'm alone and freezing. I just want to be warm. I just want to be thin. I want to whittle myself down until I'm nonexistent. The enemy left the TV on and I'm watching all my dreams turn into static. But nothing's ever sufficient for him. I'm never good enough. But he's my enemy and I love and hate him for it. He gives me quiet conversation and solitary company.

I can't fall asleep. My shivering body knows no rest. My legs ache from the abuse I put them through day in and day out. Run. Now walk. Now squats and lunges. Now run some more. Just bicep and tricep work isn't enough. Do it while you do your squats and lunges. Go to the elliptical if you feel like you're going to pass out so you can hang on to the handles and hold yourself up.

He whispers me secrets and I listen. His word is truth and his breath life. Life and ice. And I want to go back and live in his arms, wrapped in darkness. No one else sees him, but he follows me wherever I go, breathing fire onto my feet and hatred into my heart. "Go" he says. "Don't stop. Quitting is weak. Never stop moving. And never eat."

I gleaned no joy from my dinner. Or my lunch. I gained peace from my workout. I gained ambition from my jealousy. I gained strength from my hunger.

Why is it so cold?

And why do I have to stop writing now and relishing in my divine affliction to go out into the world and go back to being an adult?