10/14/2012

when i die, i hope i become a star. it’s not exactly the most pleasant thought, but i don’t want to be anything other than a star.

i am unhappy.

i don’t know how else to put it and i don’t know exactly when it started, but i know i’ve held it to the back corner of my mind for a while and it’s surfacing now.

my weight is up. a lot. i don’t know how. i don’t know why. i don’t know how big of a role this plays in my happiness, but i’m not accepting it and i’m allowing it to make me feel inadequate and massive.

i’m stressed.

i miss cooking and my apartment and sleeping alone and running and thinking about myself and sorting out all my thoughts and cool weather.

these are all connected and it sounds easy to fix and maybe it is, but there are so many other things that get in the way.

i’m making my life harder than it is and i wish i could throw away my scale and stop every single number that i’m calculating and obsessing over, whether it’s money spent and saved or calories eaten and expended. numbers are exhausting.

i feel overwhelmed, needy, childish, selfish, tired.