Got all my credits for my fall quarter project, survived being home for a few days, a deposition, a phone call with my dad, and even had a kind of okay-- maybe even good-- time seeing my friends. Yeah, what's that about? Gray had a $25 coupon to Everlasting Life (greatest vegan soul food ever), that's what that's about. Also I got to see only people that I actually liked, when usually I end up hanging out with a bunch of the jerks my friends buy drugs from. I did have to be around this one awful, greasy, skinny, artsy-stoner-bro-kid (who, sidenote, called my friend a fag a total of five times.) He's totally the type that used to make me swooooon, and now just makes me want to vomit. Ever heard of the "manic pixie dream girl" trope (the name might be kind of ableist, I think. It also totally describes my experiences with these art-bros.) Like, the goofy, ridiculous, happy-go-lucky girls who are just in a romantic comedy (see only exist because they need) to pull the SUPER SERIOUS ARTISTIC DEPRESSED DUDE out of his slump (see Garden State, 500 Days of Summer, Elizabethtown, etc.), which WEIRDLY is totally the role I played with a lot of ex-crushes and boyfriend-type things, and was probably some sort of coping mechanism to not deal with my own shit. It ended up in gross co-dependent relationships with super manipulative, misogynist, jerkfaces who didn't give a shit about me and just latched onto me for whothefuckknowswhat, an ego boost? Anyway, seeing this new greasebag brought me right back to all those feelings, and even though I wanted to vomit, I also desperately wanted his attention, and wanted to help him with whatever problems he might manipulate me into taking on, and felt fat and ugly and gross, and why the fuck am I wearing nice clothes? I am fat and ugly and have no right to be dressed nice. Luckily, I was able to kind of snap out of those terrible old thought patterns enough to call him a jerk and yell at him "CLOVE. LIKE A GARLIC CLOVE. C-L-O-V-E." when he questioned me about my "weird name." ugh. It's weird though, thinking back on that, because I haven't felt "that kind" of fat for a long time, the kind of fat where I'm EMBARRASSED to be fat, where I feel like I'm not entitled to EXIST because I'm fat, where it's something I think I can hide from people, and they won't notice because I meticulously position my body in particular ways and only wear super "flattering" clothes, and don't take up too much space. WHAT. That hasn't been me for so long, well, that hasn't been me for a few months, but it was me for almost eighteen years prior, so. I can't beeeelive "hiding" the fact that I was fat is something I ever tried to do, I mean HELLO, it's pretty fucking obvious, the people who fucked you, they noticed. Even though you insisted on having the lights off, being under the covers, and keeping as much clothing on as possible. uhh, yeah, they still knew you were fat. and guess what? They still liked you. Okay, it was usually in an awful, rape-y, yr lucky to have me way, but at least my fat wasn't so repulsive that they couldn't touch me. AND WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH MY BRAIN?! I have been so happy and loving and proud of being fat (despite being usually dissociated from my body) recently. It's probably because or bro-dude, and all the fat hate from my friends, and my mom telling me to eat less, and going to the freaking doctor today. So, okay, it MAKES SENSE that I'm thinking like this, I just hate hate hate it and don't want to ever feel like that about my body.
Also, how do you say I think yr the cutest to someone who haven't talked to in a few months, besides them liking all of yr facebook statuses? I feel too emotionally unstable for crushes and I want them to go away.