What a Mess.

I shouldn't be here. At college.

Yesterday was both the best and worst day I've had since I've been here.

The worst if I'm being honest. But, I went to class and then went into the city with my roommate, C. I'm going home next weekend for literally 24 hours so I can be at a wedding that I don't want to be at. A wedding for a sister figure in my life that is no longer a sister figure. She was a person that was there for me for everything throughout my childhood. Up until high school, pretty much. I could call her crying and she'd come over. (They lived across the street...not hard to do) She would take me to the mall or to lunch and make me feel special. I was best friends with her younger sister. I don't think we were ever really friends. I think it was always forced. When you meet someone at age 2, you don't have a personality. You can't not like another 2 year old. We were always together. Until we realized that we didn't really mesh, I guess. Around sophomore year it got pretty shitty. We spend holidays together, with their family...but I'm better friends with her older sisters. K is the one getting married, M is a couple years younger. CH is the one my age. I don't know. I just don't want to be at the wedding. I don't want to spend time with people that mean so much and so little to me at the same time. They all hurt me. I'm excited to be home for a little bit though. I wish it was for longer, and for a different reason. I wish I could see some of the people from ACE for a little bit that are helping me even though I'm far away and not at ACE anymore. But I'm getting home at 2pm on Saturday. The wedding is that same night. I'm leaving at 10am on Sunday. This long thing was to say, I went to the city to get a dress for the wedding. I'm speaking at it...reading something after the vows. I have to look nice... but we'll see about that. I was almost in tears in the dressing room because I looked so big. I hate that I can be so affected by how I see myself. I kept saying to C that I looked terrible in all of the dresses, etc. etc. and she kept saying I didn't. I know I don't "see myself" correctly...I don't really get how that works. How I can look one way and see a huge monster in the mirror.

I purged everything I ate yesterday. I never even waited in between to consolidate the amount of times. I was in a terrible place emotionally once I got back to school after the city. I should have put a movie on and gone to bed. But I went to T's suite and took way too many shots of Captain Morgan. I know how to drink responsibly, I do it often. But to be responsible, I can't be drinking when I'm not thinking straight sober. I can't be drinking when I have purged everything that day. But I did. I drank too much to drink when I am thinking straight. T and his friends kept saying that I was a badass, to take 2 double shots in a row. Somewhere before all of the liquor settled in, I went outside with T for a cigarette. He asked me how I got the cut on my hand and the scars on my wrist. (Cat. It's always a cat.) No. I didn't have inhibitions. "Scissors and a razor blade" He hugged me for a long time. He asked me why I'd ever do that to myself and I told him I'm fucked up in the head. He told me to keep going and I told him about the eating disorder. He just continued to hug me and tell me he was always there for me. Once I realized what I had just done, I flipped my shit and told him it wasn't true, etc. He just said that it was okay and that he's glad I told him. He was drunk too. I hope he doesn't remember. But considering that I remember after having more than him...that's probably not very likely. Some time went by and I got extremely sick. I was laying on the futon and they just kept holding cups up to my face so I could puke in them. It went on for two hours or so until T finally let me close my eyes. C said that he stayed up watching me sleep to make sure I was ok. I apologized this morning and he just brushed it off saying "it happens, we're in college" but I should have been more responsible than that. I'm not as mad that I drank too much and got sick, because T's right. That DOES happen. I'm mad that I drank knowing I had no food in me, knowing that I had a lot of shit on my mind I needed to forget. I'm mad that T apparently cares about me.

I've known him for 2 weeks.

People don't do shit like that. Normal people point you toward the bathroom and laugh at you. T sits in front of the futon putting cups up to my mouth and keeping me awake. He kept checking to make sure there wasn't blood...because then he said he was taking me to the hospital. I'm surprised there wasn't blood...the way my throat feels. He's a nice guy. Okay, that's good. But why would he give a shit about me? Me. I could go into a long spiel about how I don't accept that people can care about me, but I'll skip the melodrama and say that I don't want to leave my dorm or face T again. I want to go to Georgia and lay in my huge, comfortable bed forever.