first of all, i have an exquisitely horrible headache. i just took a couple excedrin. for some reason, excedrin is the only non-prescription painkiller that does anything for my headaches. its in the back of my neck.
i dont want to go to school tomorrow. i want the day off to draw and lay around the house and think. i have some thinking to do. i agreed to go to a painting party this saturday (which means skipping a day of school, which im not exactly crying about, but it also means i have to find a ride home... so i dont know. but its a chance to meet some people who can help me get my script for miss horrorfest off the ground, so...)
ahh run-on sentences. or in my case, paragraphs.
nick called last night and left a message on the machine. i didnt hear it and im glad. my mother called him back, and they evidently agreed that the papers will be sent to his friend brads house so no mistakes can be made. according to him, they were just left at the post office last time and then returned because he never picked them up. right. this story is full of holes big enough to drive a train through, but okay. lets play along and see if he really does sign them THIS time.
i believe my last myspace post might have scared him a bit. maybe even enough to actually be a fucking ADULT for the length of time that it takes to scrawl his signature on a piece of paper.
i went to the doctor yesterday. i go every month and have my 'consultation' and she asks how i am doing and how the medication is working for me and if i feel ready to cut down on the suboxone and so forth... but before all that, i get weighed. i cant remember if i wrote this in my last entry or not, but im down to 95lbs and that is NOT a good thing. i dont know why im losing weight like this. the doctor wants me to go to the hospital where they will shove some tube down my throat and look around my insides. i dont want to do that. i think its stress about the divorce, stress related to school, and excitement about my blossoming modeling career. i dont see how i can be losing weight like this. i would be comfortable between 105 and 115, i think. she told me to drink ensure and mix it with ice cream, because my stomach is behaving strangely. for the last few months, give or take, when i eat anything, i double up in pain. SHARP pain. like knives. i think thats why she wants them to look around in there. i think she is thinking i have an ulcer or something.
i wouldnt be too fucking surprised.
she brought up hospitalization and i cut her off flat. i REFUSE to be hospitalized ever again. its a vow i made to myself and nobody can do it to me without my permission, and nobody on this earth is going to persuade me to sign away my freedom. never never never.
fuck it.
all i can do is wish i had never met nick. then i would never have had these stupid neuroses and i would be a much more pleasant person. he cut something out of me. definitely. what exactly that thing was remains to be seen.
i dont want to go to school tomorrow. i want the day off to draw and lay around the house and think. i have some thinking to do. i agreed to go to a painting party this saturday (which means skipping a day of school, which im not exactly crying about, but it also means i have to find a ride home... so i dont know. but its a chance to meet some people who can help me get my script for miss horrorfest off the ground, so...)
ahh run-on sentences. or in my case, paragraphs.
nick called last night and left a message on the machine. i didnt hear it and im glad. my mother called him back, and they evidently agreed that the papers will be sent to his friend brads house so no mistakes can be made. according to him, they were just left at the post office last time and then returned because he never picked them up. right. this story is full of holes big enough to drive a train through, but okay. lets play along and see if he really does sign them THIS time.
i believe my last myspace post might have scared him a bit. maybe even enough to actually be a fucking ADULT for the length of time that it takes to scrawl his signature on a piece of paper.
i went to the doctor yesterday. i go every month and have my 'consultation' and she asks how i am doing and how the medication is working for me and if i feel ready to cut down on the suboxone and so forth... but before all that, i get weighed. i cant remember if i wrote this in my last entry or not, but im down to 95lbs and that is NOT a good thing. i dont know why im losing weight like this. the doctor wants me to go to the hospital where they will shove some tube down my throat and look around my insides. i dont want to do that. i think its stress about the divorce, stress related to school, and excitement about my blossoming modeling career. i dont see how i can be losing weight like this. i would be comfortable between 105 and 115, i think. she told me to drink ensure and mix it with ice cream, because my stomach is behaving strangely. for the last few months, give or take, when i eat anything, i double up in pain. SHARP pain. like knives. i think thats why she wants them to look around in there. i think she is thinking i have an ulcer or something.
i wouldnt be too fucking surprised.
she brought up hospitalization and i cut her off flat. i REFUSE to be hospitalized ever again. its a vow i made to myself and nobody can do it to me without my permission, and nobody on this earth is going to persuade me to sign away my freedom. never never never.
fuck it.
all i can do is wish i had never met nick. then i would never have had these stupid neuroses and i would be a much more pleasant person. he cut something out of me. definitely. what exactly that thing was remains to be seen.
I wonder why that is. Usually motrin helps with all my body aches and pains except migraines, it has no effect on them whatsoever.
and I wanted to let you know that I think you have an amazingly beautiful face, I love your big eyes and your lips.