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Angela Schrøder

Jeg står bak Livet som Krølltopp!

Hallo.

Velkommen til Livet som Krølltopp, bloggen hvor jeg dokumenterer livet i form av the struggles og the not so struggles. Nyt lesingen og send meg en melding på Instagram om du har noe på hjertet.

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I FUNCTION THEREFORE I AM

It is not about blogging anymore. It is about living. Right now, I do not live on this planet. I am here, working, functioning, but I do not live. I get up every, not morning, but somewhere around noon. I drink a cup of coffee, not because I need it to wake up, but because it is a habit. I do not enjoy this coffee at all, I throw it out and head for work. Showering is something I do because I have to, same thing with eating. I am starting to understand why people think I might have an eating-disorder. I am starting to understand how people are capable of having eating-disorders, if it's anything like this. For me, my body might get hungry but I don't. My stomach can scream and rumble a lot, but I do not feel hunger. I do not want to eat and it feels like I don't need to eat. There is no pain in my body from not getting any nutrition. Or maybe there is, only I am so used to it that I no longer feel it.


This all sounds very whiny I think.

I kind of feel like I am Okay, and at the same time, I do feel like going on a three month sickleave, which I know will ruin my life, or at least my career. How far am I supposed to take this? How bad do I have to feel for it to be like; "hi, my name is Angela and I have hit the wall"? Because I mean, I do live and stuff. I am here and I am, well maybe not Okay, but something like that.

I do not think others live a life like this, and I know mine has never been this bad before. As my friend said to me yesterday, I put everyone else's needs before my own. I guess I do do that. Because I know there are so many people out there who has a worse life than me. And they aren't complaining, are they? Why should I get to be sad and exhausted and ill, when they're not?

It's like, yeah, my life totally sucks, but why should I bother everyone else about it? Why do others have to pay for my mistakes, when I am kind of capable of doing that myself? I want to tell myself to get myself together, I just can’t be bothered. Still, here I am, writing this right now, maybe posting it on the big old Internet. Maybe.

WE WERE ON A BREAK


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