Babble.

I'm having an insanely hard time writing out what I'm feeling. Or saying it. Or letting myself feel it. I told T way too much and I want to push away but he keeps pulling back and I think I like that he's doing that. I think I like the support, which scares the shit out of me.

I lost weight. It's not an unhealthy amount but I did it unhealthily. I lost weight because I'm hardly eating. It's so easy. I'm only afraid that this happened because of how it made me feel. I used my friend's scale. I don't have one. I want one, I went to Walgreens to buy one but they don't have them. I planned a trip to Target to get one in my head. I'm trying to fight myself on it because I'll become a slave to the number again. Yeah, it's the only thing on my mind. Yeah, it's consuming me and I'm calculating the time it'll take to reach my goal. And I'm pissed off at the side of me that's saying it's unhealthy that I lost weight from new (expensive) symptoms. I don't have the fucking money to spend on helping my eating disorder. I'm in college, I can hardly pay for toothpaste. I know that, but I tell myself once I get my job a certain amount can go towards this. NO. I will not hit rock bottom again.

I don't want to go down further, but I don't want to go up either. I like where I am. It's the perfect amount of symptoms to help me cope, but it's not enough to force me into isolation and hatred of anyone who speaks to me.

I absolutely can not wait to go home. I'm so excited to see K even though I had a huge rant about how much she'd hurt me. And I'll hardly see her, I know...because she's going to be pretty busy getting married. But I got new shoes and a new dress and I'm conceited enough to be solely excited to wear them. (I just wish my hand didn't scar like it did. It's so ugly. Lesson learned, though. again.)

I wish I could articulate this better. I don't know. I just...don't.