I guess eight days is too long to be upset about a gigantic break-up.

Well who fucking knew.

Yeah, I know nobody enjoys the downer friend, but it's been just over a week, can you at least PRETEND to care? Fuck.

I'm not actively trying to be a complete and total mopey asshole. I mean, you wouldn't know it from reading this, but everywhere else I haven't said a word about him. On the internet, I mean. Maybe they think I don't need to talk? I have no idea.

Additionally, it's really only the last two days that have been bad.

I feel fat. Amazingly fat. I think I only gained two pounds back after starving but I feel like a blimp.

I wish I could never eat and just sleep all the time. Or have someone who really wanted me around.

It's a constant battle lately. I know I should do this for my own good, but I don't feel like it. Painting, drawing, writing, exercising, just fucking going outside, whatever. Every little thing is a goddamned challenge.

I was doing so well at first. I don't know what happened.

I guess a lot of it could be that the influx of support completely stopped.

Right.

I'm going out to tea at six. I wish I didn't feel like having a full-blown panic attack at the thought of going out into public.

It's always in the back of my mind: "what if he's there?"

And, ever worse:

"What if he's there with her?"

Fucking shit.

I don't know why I fall in love with completely selfish people.