to do...

This summer, i would like to:

find the joy in summer again

figure out my life's manifesto

read a lot of books

stop saying "no" to social outings no matter what they are

keep up with my spanish

learn to have relationships long distance

take control over my room and my life

write something profound

build a swing/hammock WITH bug netting

connect with my grandparents again

figure out grad school plans 

draw/paint a landscape portrait

NOT end up in binge induced depression comas on a regular basis

learn something

make something (quilt maybe?)

...to be continued...

just when i think it's worth it...i realize it never will be.

Merecer

What do i deserve?  Why do i put so much into that one little word?  I don't deserve to eat if i don't go to the gym.  I don't deserve to live if i'm fat.  I don't deserve to have friends.  I hate my life.  I'm so tired.  I so depressed all the time.  The only times i ever feel happy are when i'm distracted from myself, aka when i'm at work or with someone or dealing with a bigger issue than my mind.  Hence why i need this job this summer because i'll go nuts if i'm stuck with nothing but my mind.  I hate my mind.  Which is ridiculous since my mind is me and i control it.  So i hate me?  probably.  most likely.  yes. 

I don't deserve to ask for things. I don't deserve to spend money.  I don't deserve to feel bad because i have nothing to feel bad about and i'm just a whiny fucking bitch.  I have everything i could possibly want or need.  Everything.  And here i am, alone, sobbing, depressed, not wanting to go home, too lazy to go to the gym, hormonally sweating from my last binge, waiting to see how long i can outlast the weight watchers ice cream in the freezer.  

I just avoided my grandparents at the grocery store.  I didn't return my dad's call.  I'm a depressed slob who didn't even do her hair or anything productive today.  And it's my fault.  I hate the tv.  I hate laziness.  I hate me.  I have no meaning.  My life is pointless.  I could make it so that it was meaningful, and i feel meaningful when i'm working or doing something, but otherwise....nope.  ice cream wins. 

I'm not pregnant.  After being three weeks late and going between moments of denial with underlying stress and moments of paranoia with very present stress, i finally got my period.  And i'm still stressed as hell.  I ate my weight in everything  in sight last night and today as well.  Summer is almost here.  Aleks is almost gone.  I skipped all my classes today.  And therapy.  I get fingerprinted tomorrow.  I don't want to go to the gym today.  I don't want to do anything.