Finals.

They're in a few days. I should be scared, nervous, something. I shouldn't be standing on the scale, seeing close to 170, and thinking I shouldn't eat. I should be worried about passing pre-calculus. Since I know that, why can't I think of that? Why can I only think of how I just don't want to eat ever again and how if I tell J.P. that she'll blame herself and think she's the only reason I don't (and she is). But instead of working out, I'm sitting here, on the computer, complaining about how fat I am.
Maybe I should actually go work out.
Oh, I'm set to graduate in a year. A year from now. Like, I only have to go the first semester of my senor year.
But I also have to order my gown next year. J.P. told me that I have to be the size I want to be by then... I wanted to be ninety-nine pounds before I graduated. It's not going to happen. I also wanted to be one fourteen, but that's not going to happen either. She won't let it. I'll get thinner and happier and she'll remind me to eat. She'll tell me how sick I am. She tell me that getting better is so much better. What if I don't want to be better? What if I know I'll be happy when I step on the scale and see the weight I want? What if I just don't want to be better?
Why try so hard to force me?