And I should be in bed because of finals and stuff, but I feel...scared and inadaquate. The next 2 days are the last days I have to see J.R.'s ugly face so I should be happy, but for once that's not the problem. It's the feeling of being let into society after isolation even though I was never isolated.
Anyways, I made my bed, am doing my nails, am blogging, and should be sleeping. Oh and I should check my e-mail. Ok, while she was spending -what? a week?- I told J.P. that while she was enjoying her lovely relationship, I used my weight and cutting as a means for control. Before then, I had always, always, always said my cutting was to express emotions people wouldn't allow me to talk about. She blames herself for what that whorebag did...because she trusted him twice more than me, because she had told him the things he used to get me here. Man, it seems like years ago. October, that is. Yet the pain comes back, hot and fresh. I suppose I should blame her, but we've been friends so long that I just...can't. I can't tear her apart like he did to me, can't yell at her that her skinny butt makes me feel fat and useless, can't tell her how little I want to weigh, can't ask her how to do it, can't tell her how aweful I frickin felt while she was dating him, can't scream at her and show her the scars, can't bring myself to think THEY caused them(only that HE hurt me bad enough to). I lock it all up and don't ask, don't scream, don't tell. She's like a sister to me; easy to forgive.
Alright, bedtime. That's all my thoughts for right now. I'm hoping, hoping, hoping to do liquids tomorrow. Because I've been eating like a fat piggie and seriously might be gainin' instead of losin'.
Nightt~
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