**REGISTER TO VOTE ONLINE!** **SIGN DARFUR ACTION PETITION HERE!!**

---

Speaking in general about nothing/everything, whenever it seems like I'm doing well, like people that run into on the street or when I talk to friends or whatever, when it looks like Ive lost some weight, am doing well in school, the car's clean and the house isn't terribly dirty, and I'm laughing and my hair is actually washed AND brushed... when it seems like I'm doing the best... I'm really not. I think subconsciously I step it up in order to feel better. I learned it from Daniel who once said "if you want to be skinny then eat like a skinny person and if you want to be happy act like a happy person". I guess I incorporated his advice into my gameplan in the hopes that if I keep up the farce for long enough, maybe I'd forget I was pretending. Maybe it woulda worked if I had a prettier mask to wear, but it's doubtful.

I usually write when Im manic, it's hard to think in a mood like this now. I cry just about all the time when nobody is looking. Even in church, as soon as Darryl goes "Let us pray" and our heads go down... they ramble on and I try to see if I can get the tears to match the old wet stains in the wood from the last round of prayers and hope that no one notices. I feel empty and phoney there. Not as bad as at the mall, where I can't even go alone (and Cass doesn't count, she's always with me -but Im always alone). It's hard to get my thoughts straight, they rush past and Im not quick enough to grab them, and whats with the return of my dyslexia anyway, I've had to type soooo fuckingggg slowwwwww the last month or so... I cant get control of my weight or eating. Its not trivial or funny. Kicking heroin is easy compared to this. If I could not eat, ever, then that would work. But moderation? What the fuck is that??? I do good for about three days and then I binge. And it all equals out to too much. They keep pushing the surgery back, and now that it's been in my head this long it's become the only option, fire escape, parachute, and Ive closed other avenues. If it falls through (they disqualify me, I lose my insurance, they find out about my rehab, if they piss test me, if I dont weigh less than my weigh-in weight etc). Ive become dependent upon the surgery now and I dont see any other options. If they'd schedule the date, I'd have some hope. End of July is my last dietician meeting, they could send me for more, but supposedly I'd meet with the surgeon sometime in august and supposedly surgery is about 6 weeks from that visit. My medicaid is up for recertification in September....

Im afraid I'll take Greg back. It's probably going to happen. If the boulder keeps rolling that direction it will happen. I dont want to live with my mom anymore, she is a constant hammer against my head. I don't think I could take care of Skootch on my own, like for an extended period of time. Maybe I could, but I wouldnt trust myself to even try. I dont think I could even get the chance to try because theres no way I could get an apartment on my own. Ive got that other $2666 coming, which will get me about 6 mos of rent, except that the car might need a grand in work for the radiator. I cant think specifics right now. Im afraid he wants to come home because his sister is prodding him out, and that he cant make it on his own either. And Im afraid I'll take him back just because Im scared and lonely (which I believe equals LAZY). He didnt respect me, hardly ever said I love you and didnt fuck me nearly enough (course he probably respected me/loved me/fucked me more than I do myself... so wtf, got a few issues there to deal with...). I dont know where this is going, yeah I do, nowhere. anyway, crying baby....

Always remember to quit while you're ahead.

last :: next