guilt

not about food. guilt about my actions with others. guilt about who do i tell what about what i can only hope was really just a dream. oh man. does this have to be for real? because this is gonna be a bad scene somehow soon. or not. everything will be silent and happy like nothing happened, as long as informed parties remember to shut the fuck up. the case against that is guilt. then it's not even my guilt to worry about. that part scares me more than anything.

i can't work right now and i need to. i have shit due tomorrow and i don't think i can pull it all off tonight. i have to work so much harder, but my brain won't shut up about just how wrong this all is. ugh.

i'll have thinspo up sometime soon. i just want a stranger to spill every sordid detail to, just once. everyone who reads this blog is suspect to me, so don't go volunteering. hmm.

so i ran out of diet pills

ugh. i have way too much to do. i can't focus. i don't have enough time to devote to proper starvation. i don't work out enough but somehow, every day i hurt too much to want to go to the gym on non-training days. i'm not doing enough, and yet i'm overbooked.

i have a bunch of shows coming up in april. i have a fucking runway gig to walk for on april 5th. eek. my abs hurt when i cough. i'm worried that i'm going to be too fat for my most important upcoming gig.

the nicest guys always have some fatal flaw. like polyamory. i always have some fatal flaw. like a boyfriend that i just can't entirely give up on, even when something better is just staring me in the face. he makes sense. he doesn't punish girls for not being a consistent fuck puppet. agh. love is stupid. love... is... so... fucking... stupid. or maybe i'm just fat. who knows! whee!