Lewis Carroll once wrote a popular novel titled Through the Looking Glass. That's all I can think about during these past few days. I've plowed through the looking glass, to a place where I look the same on the outside, but I am by no means the same on the inside. There has been a shift somewhere far deeper than organs and bones; the part of my brain that makes me myself is trying to escape and leave me a cold shell. I'm fighting to keep my identity near me, but it's like holding onto a struggling moth.
These past few days, I've forgotten how to be me. Suddenly, I'm dating my much older manager and letting him (wanting him to!) do things that don't.... necessarily... bring me closer to God. I'm still a virgin, but only barely. And it's been three days. How long before my willpower wears thin and snaps?
Not to mention, I have no clue if what we're doing is against the rules or not. A tiny part of me hopes it is, because I have no clue how to get back to normal with him. I am afraid to be myself. And I'm afraid to say no. And the games we play, well, they're fun, but they're unusual.
On the bright side, I'm at 125. It's so strange to say that. I said I'd stop here, but... why should I? I feel like, when I eat more than one meal a day, people can SEE it on me, like I'm less extraordinary and superhuman with every bite I take. I LOVE seeing bones where I didn't know bones existed. And the other day, a lady at work wrapped her hands around my waist and said, "You're disappearing." Oh, yes.
Pictures to come when... I hit 120. :)
Love from E