I hate you, right now. I know that hate is a strong word to use, but that’s how I feel. Everything is always my fault. I ruin your days, nights, and mood. You say I haven’t acted sane in months, and to top it off I’m not eating. You’re on my ass about something at all times.
I’ve given up. You won’t provide me with what I want or need. You try to change and control me.
Well, watch what I can do alone. You haven’t seen crazy yet. You havejt seen how truly irresponsible I can be.
Watch how your homie texts me back. Watch how fucked up I can get with a wallet full of 20s.
You say I haven’t been acting like myself. Do you really want to see the real me? Because no one, except for me, likes her. The real me is a.self-centered bitch. I’m grimey and malicious with my words and actions. The real me won’t stop so willingly. The real me lies and cheats. The real me gets what she wants at the expense of others…usually the ones closest.
I’m about to let loose. Let go. Forget what I learned in rehab and fuck some shit up.
Preferably, my life and health.

Here’s the big fuck you.

My boyfriend

is more interested in his cell phone than he is me. No matter how I ask or how I say it, I get rejected. What’s a girl got to do to get boned around here?!?!?

Might as well face it…

He’s just not going to change his mind. It isn’t going to happen for me. He’s scared. That’s what he said, “I’m scared.”
Well I’m disappointed and impatient.

I’m disgusted with myself.

E felt it necessary to tell me I’m too skinny. He didn’t do it in a mean way, I guess he’s just concerned. But it just made me feel even more horrible about the way I look.
I did some online snooping, and I’m only a pound below the low end of a healthy weight for my height. My BMI is 19.4 and I guess that is healthy.
I know that it’s my own fault I have lost so much weight. I just don’t ever want to eat. I’m not afraid of gaining weight. I’m also jot afraid of food, in fact I love it.
In the past few years I have developed some massive stomach issues. Almost everything I eat sends me straight to the bathrrom. Gross, I know. I guess I would rather not eat than be sick.
I’m stressed out all the time, which makes my stomach problems even worse. I just don’t feel like eating. When I do eat, its not because I’m hungry. It’s because I know I have to eat something or I may pass out. It’s such an unhealthy eating pattern. I’m lucky if I can force myself to eat twice a day.
E says its not hard to force myself to eat and “stretch my stomache.” He just doesn’t understand. It’s not about getting or being full. I have no appetite. Eating with no appetite is no fun. Every bite you take makes you feel like you’re going to puke it right back up. It’s even hard to swallow.
I just wish all these problems didn’t exist. I just want to gain 15 pounds and be able to eat normally again.

I’m having a really hard time with this.

I know I’m hard to satisfy. I know I’m fickle. But I also know I love him with all my heart. I just want to be with him. I hate that he works all the time. I’m jealous he has a job that he would rather be at than he here. I’m upset that he’s not ready for the things I want with him.

I’m so disappointed. And I can’t even share it with anyone. Certainly not E. He won’t get it. He doesn’t understand a lot of my feelings. I wish I could put it into terms he could grasp.
He’s too logical. He doesn’t deal in feelings, only facts. That’s why we have communication problems; we speak two different languages. But he takes care of me. Keeps me safe, makes me smile. I love him.
I’m ready for something more and he isn’t. I can’t very well push him for more commitment. That will only serve to push him away. There lies my problem.
I’m stuck. I have only two options:
1. I just wait. Try to be content until he’s ready for more.
2. I can break up with him. Move on.

But neither of those are what I want.
What to do…what to do.

I honestly think I’m bipolar.
There’s no other explanation for the mood swings I have. I’m so angry right now, and there’s reason for at all. I feel like I need to cry or scream or break something. When I’m in this mood, I am so extremely unhappy. And there’s nothing I can do. I can’t make myself feel better, I can’t stop freaking out.
I’m so miserable. And I’m too poor to go to a doctor to get medicine. My shitty, go no where job doesn’t offer insurance. I just want some antidepressants and some anxiety pills.
I’m going to give myself a heart attack.
And if E and I were to break up….I may even act more ridiculous.

So ready for E to get home. But he just called and said he would probably be like another thirty minutes. I’m bummed.
I have stuck in this trailer, with someone I am not too fond of, all day. On top of that, the only tv in the house is on the fucking church channel. I had to come in my bedroom before I killed myself.
E really needs to get a car. I could have at least gone into work for some extra hours. Or hang out with someone.
I know I complain too much.
Once he gets here, though, we’ll be leaving to pick up my check. Maybe we’ll get food and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get my tattoo. But probably not. I have bills due soonish.
Damn, I need a drink.