SILLY LITTLE FOOL.

This is just my two-week span of insanity, I guess.
I don't know exactly how much I've been through in the last few days (seeing as I feel relatively removed from myself for the time being), but I can estimate that it adds up to a grand total of More Than I Have Ever Dealt With In My Life Excluding A Few Solitary Occasions.
Fun!
Life sits as a tediously balanced item, weighted on either end and ready to plummet without a moment's notice. I'm certainly alright with that. After all, without the tension, where would life's excitement spring from?
It just so happens that the same tension that engages and inspires me also threatens to, in most eloquent terms, make me vomit. My stomach sits in a hushed disdain that looms with the fear of erupting at any second. Food has, once again, become a thing to be reviled, if only for the fact that it will not stay down. I feel myself weakening in both physical and mental capacities to say the least. These last few weeks have proven some of the most emotional in my life, and I daresay, I never want such a thing to occur again. I feel so very little, so easily threatened, and so very, very weak.
Not a good thing, I can assure you.
Feeling infantile is probably one of the most painful experiences I've ever faced. I do not want to feel as though I am not in control of the world around me. I do not want to feel as though my body will not obey my simple requests to take in the nutrients necessary to sustain function. I do not want to spend the rest of my life in tears like a silly little fool.
I have never felt like a fool, but every time my eyes threaten to well up, I am nothing short of swimming in foolishness.
Silly. That's what life is right now.
Silly.