I just got back from the boyfriend's house, where me and a couple friends all ignored the 5 o' clock rule, and played quite a few rounds of beer pong. Pretty soon, everyone was feeling pretty good (I abstained, Tee hee!) and I commenced in dragging my boyfriend to his bedroom... and well.... You can guess the rest. ;)
And now I'm home, munching on dinner for today, reminiscing. On what is anyone's guess. Tomorrow is the start of the last quarter of my sophomore year... Yeah, no pressure or anything. Life's passing so quickly.
I'm going to blink and be fourty.
My mother's on a rampage, Lord knows why. She's upset at the world.
They say eating disorders are inherited. Once upon a time, when I tried to explain this to my mother, she took it as me blaming her. She yelled at me, and said why couldn't I just own up to my attempts at attention whoring. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother... But she is the single most person who has hurt me the greatest in this world.
While I was living in New Zealand, with the biological sperm donor and his fat fuck I mean wife, I was the single most saddest person on this earth. I had no life, no light. Stolen by my circumstances, aggravated by my hopelessness. I rarely ate. I sat at 99 pounds, on the same height I've been since I was twelve years old... And I still felt fat. I remember, at 99 pounds, my thighs finally did not touch. But it was a small victory amongst so much sadness.
It's startling to reminisce.