Today, I cleared out some of the stuff that I haven’t touched in a while and have expired. Other than the usual drinks, snacks, and chocolates, this purge included a barely used (maybe a quarter or less than half) container of protein powder. And I know it may seem ridiculous that I have protein powder, but at the time, I went to the gym a couple times a week and was hoping that protein powder, because of the way it filled me, would help me gain muscle and lose weight. I think it worked because it curbed my appetite, but I didn’t use it long enough for me to really see the outcome as I stopped going to the gym after my grandpa was in the hospital, before I even realized how serious it was.
I am pretty sure I wrote about this already (either on my blog or in my unpublished ones), but the gym and working out in general is something I used to love doing. Now, it has a negative underlying meaning to me and it has become painful/difficult to do for me physically. But I still want to go back, because I miss the feeling it once gave me – not to mention, I’m getting a bit…uh…yeah.
It’s just another reminder of how it’s been over a year since all of this had happened and I still cannot believe it’s happened at all. Things really are very different, and I’m really different. I guess the protein powder is representative of a lot of things. A reminder of that moment in time where it was the point of intersection between things going really well and then going to complete shit. A reminder of the lifestyle of fitness that I once lived coming to an abrupt and stressful end, and it’s a reminder of the peak of my high school career coming crashing down like a roller coaster free-fall or the climax and downfall in a novel.
Having to accept it’s all just gone now is still something that seems impossible. How does something seeming so permanent just go away?
How can he just be gone?
How can what I know of myself just completely change?
I guess that all got thrown out when I was throwing it all up.
It may just be time to let it go. To let myself live again. Because, I really can’t hold it back anymore, and it’s about time that I tell myself I do not have to. It’s now 1 AM, and it’s my third night writing blogs with the lights out. I think it’s healthier for me than going to bed sad. At least all the stuff that go through my head go somewhere rather than into my broken mind that just seems to forget it the next morning. It has a place.
Heartaches and headaches keep me awake and thinking,
at least now I have a place to do something.
As my backlit keyboard lights up my face,
the fear of waking up my parents makes my heart race.
But mother, it’s not my fault I cannot sleep,
please blame life for making my heart weep.
I know, it’s no excuse, but it will just have to do,
as my neck also hurts and my damn back hurts too.
I twist and turned for hours upon hours,
and I had even built some great pillow towers!
None of this worked to help get me to sleep,
I guess I will just have to try once more and not make a peep.