World of Make Believe

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Enjoy, peeps.

So, lately I'm skipping days updating. In a way, I feel bad for not updating daily anymore, because I feel like I'm neglecting this diary and anyone who happens to read it.

I just have nothing to say lately.

And honestly, it's because I'm having some trouble lately. Just, in general, being freaking exhausted and depressed. I don't know why, I'm just incredibly down and out. I know I have friends from "real life" that read this, and I promise if I want to talk about it, I will. Just don't get all offended and shit if I don't mention this at all. I don't want to talk about it.

At least, not untilI figure out what is going on.

In other (boring) news, I'm working full-time. Thankfully, Kim's giving me all the hours I want. Which means no off days. Not two weeks ago, not this week, and not next week, anyway. But it'll be worth it in the end, because that just means I get my car sooner. I really want a Kia Rio, but I might end up getting a used car. I'm not sure yet. I just want a fucking car already, so I don't have to talk my mother into letting me take her car out whenever I have to go to work or something.

Speaking of my mother, she's been in one of her moods. She keeps freaking out because my eyes have two or three red arteries/veins/something like that showing, insisting I'm smoking pot or something. I hate pot. And we got into a screaming fight over it, so now I'm hoarse and she and I aren't speaking. This is definitely a case of "silence is golden." Fuck her freak-outs. I hate that shit. And it came out of nowhere, too. She was fine, and then she was psycho.

As usual. 

I haven't been eating much lately. I've dropped 10 pounds since I've been back to work for this summer. I'm just not hungry. Pills make me not hungry.Pills on top of work…well, I won't be eating much at all.

This lack of eating isn't intentional. It's really not. But I don't mind it. My mother told me today my stomach already looks "MUCH better" (read: a tiny bit smaller) and she told me how proud she was of me for losing weight. That's about all she ever is proud of me for. Go fucking figure. I have been eating some, don't get me wrong. I know I need to eat to function and all (duh). But…well, yesterday…I ate an apple. At night. And that's all.

At least, I think I ate an apple. And maybe a couple pieces of meat from some beef stew my grandmother made. But that's all.

Even if this lack of eating isn't intentional…I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying this weightloss.  Rather rapid weightloss, too. It's definitely triggering. I always drop a ton of weight when I get in this "mode", and then I eventually level out and plateau, but I still keep losing at least a pound or so a week. Trigger trigger trigger.

I can't think of a single person who's absolutely 100% content with my weight. Or my appearance. Everyone has standards. Myself included. I just tend to base my personal standards on those little comments that people make towards me– and I make my standards just a little bit harsher than those comments. It all hurts. I really do want to be pretty and thin.

Vanity. Yes.  I know this. I'm just not sure if I care at the moment. I want to be vain and superficial and work on looking good. Even if I do get hit on already by some of the skeeziest (yes, I just said 'skeeziest') guys this side of the Mason-Dixon line. *sighs* It's bad when getting hit on becomes an almost *offensive* experience.

C'est la vie. Such is the wonderful fucking world of working at Long John Silver's. I close every single night this week. Except Saturday, then I work a day shift. I have no off days. Instead, I'm just going to be spending every single day sleeping until about 2, then waking up, showering, and going to work. Repeat daily. Every. single. day.

Can I drop dead yet? Yes? Thank you. 

I am out of it. Out. of. it. This is nothing unusual for me lately. I have no real desire to do anything. I enjoy sitting and doing nothing, and being completely spacey and oblivious to most everything. 

Marie left me a comment on my myspace talking about how Stacie is going over to her house to talk because she wants to work things out between them. I am just sitting over here, and I feel rather smug at the moment. They have talked so much shit about each other, and have sworn up and down never to talk to one another again. And now they'll start working things out. Things will be okay for a little while, but then they'll fight and it will all blow up again.

Then I will hear this all over again. And then it will happen again…and again….and again. And I will point and laugh at this all over again, while making the same sympathetic comments to both of them that I have already made twice now in the mere 6-month-span that Marie's been living in Alabama. Just….whatever. I'll get dragged into this again. And again, I just won't care. I care about them both. I do. I don't care to be dragged into their shit repeatedly.

I like my own little world. It's nice. I don't have to worry about anything other than myself. 

I wasn't supposed to be like this.

<<More later>> Maybe. 

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

That's all.

Um. Yeah.