- Joined
- Jul 27, 2016
a blah life indeed, big al.
she has no understanding of what it really means to live a normal life. in fact, most people come home from vacations - or in this case, a weekend that sounded equivalent to a business trip in terms of excitement - feeling, sure, maybe a little bit sad it’s over, but there’s joy there, too. the joy of sleeping in your own bed, enjoying your own space, returning to work or hanging out with friends again and generally getting back into the gist of hobbies, fitness, etc that are normally abandoned when one goes away for a while. she has none of this. hell, she can’t even enjoy sleeping since she smothers herself half to death every 45 seconds if she lies on her back. she has nothing to look forward to: her roommates hate her, she can barely leave the house anymore, even to go to walmart or walk to a tree. it seems confusing that she’s hyped up two days of ordering food at a hyatt, rolling around target, and playing cards like she spent a weekend at disney world - but that is disney world to her.
like when she saw the arena where ariana grande is going to perform, something i’m certain she would have liked to attend if she could stand for more than 40 seconds at a time. her life is nothing more than watching the rest of the world unfold in her periphery. eric and ricky probably go hiking, camping, they hang out with family and live normal lives. becky disappears for hours, feeling the freedom of driving (which is something amberlynn has never known), she’s still mobile and can shop, move, have fun, swim. amberlynn is a flower in the attic, she’s imprisoned herself in her own fat to the point that laying in bed at the hyatt and waddling to target is comparable to going to bora bora and coming home to the same thing, different setting feels blah in comparison.
she’s in her late twenties. how she can’t feel a deep sense of sorrow, of entropy, simply astounds me. maybe she does? i imagine it’s cyclical, really. i imagine at this point, compulsion aside, eating is a tool to soothe the pain of knowing that most twenty-somethings go to target weekly, they go to concerts and have a bora bora jar full of spare quarters and when they save enough - they go there, too. there’s no quality of life left with amber. this is the equivalent of a van pulling up to a convalescent home, taking the very elderly to the library or the park for the afternoon for an hour to spice up their week and keep them from completely losing their minds.
she’s way too far gone, way too obsessed with the sheer act of eating to even realize what she’s missing. she used to want more but she’s lost even that, settling for so little, setting the bar so low for what makes her happy. i can’t imagine she is ever going to lose weight if she sees how pathetic this is and accepts it, if she’s given up wanting - freedom, adventure, family. without that, what the point? she’s in the endgame now, the hope and desire for better is the only thing that can save her.
also: “i ate like a crazy person this weekend.”
we been knew.
she has no understanding of what it really means to live a normal life. in fact, most people come home from vacations - or in this case, a weekend that sounded equivalent to a business trip in terms of excitement - feeling, sure, maybe a little bit sad it’s over, but there’s joy there, too. the joy of sleeping in your own bed, enjoying your own space, returning to work or hanging out with friends again and generally getting back into the gist of hobbies, fitness, etc that are normally abandoned when one goes away for a while. she has none of this. hell, she can’t even enjoy sleeping since she smothers herself half to death every 45 seconds if she lies on her back. she has nothing to look forward to: her roommates hate her, she can barely leave the house anymore, even to go to walmart or walk to a tree. it seems confusing that she’s hyped up two days of ordering food at a hyatt, rolling around target, and playing cards like she spent a weekend at disney world - but that is disney world to her.
like when she saw the arena where ariana grande is going to perform, something i’m certain she would have liked to attend if she could stand for more than 40 seconds at a time. her life is nothing more than watching the rest of the world unfold in her periphery. eric and ricky probably go hiking, camping, they hang out with family and live normal lives. becky disappears for hours, feeling the freedom of driving (which is something amberlynn has never known), she’s still mobile and can shop, move, have fun, swim. amberlynn is a flower in the attic, she’s imprisoned herself in her own fat to the point that laying in bed at the hyatt and waddling to target is comparable to going to bora bora and coming home to the same thing, different setting feels blah in comparison.
she’s in her late twenties. how she can’t feel a deep sense of sorrow, of entropy, simply astounds me. maybe she does? i imagine it’s cyclical, really. i imagine at this point, compulsion aside, eating is a tool to soothe the pain of knowing that most twenty-somethings go to target weekly, they go to concerts and have a bora bora jar full of spare quarters and when they save enough - they go there, too. there’s no quality of life left with amber. this is the equivalent of a van pulling up to a convalescent home, taking the very elderly to the library or the park for the afternoon for an hour to spice up their week and keep them from completely losing their minds.
she’s way too far gone, way too obsessed with the sheer act of eating to even realize what she’s missing. she used to want more but she’s lost even that, settling for so little, setting the bar so low for what makes her happy. i can’t imagine she is ever going to lose weight if she sees how pathetic this is and accepts it, if she’s given up wanting - freedom, adventure, family. without that, what the point? she’s in the endgame now, the hope and desire for better is the only thing that can save her.
also: “i ate like a crazy person this weekend.”
we been knew.
