The dining hall called my name; Potatoes...pasta...cereal. What is this fixation with carbs? As soon as Best Friend leaves my room, Mia will take care of me. Ana, please come back. Please. I was 114.2 this morning. Look at those horrid numbers. What I would give to be 100. If only, if only...I feel like absolute shit, what with the potatoes and the cheesy pasta. Why? Why did I have to be so weak? I had stuck to my 300 cal limit all day. Only 300! This is so disappointing. I can only imagine what my little Health-O-Meter scale will tell me once I step on it. It will plea for help, for me to get my fat ass off of it. "You gained three pounds in one sitting," it will tell me in a disgusted tone. "Do you not have any self-control?" No. No, I do not. I might as well continue on this binge fest since I'll be purging it all later. Girl Scout cookies and a big ass glass of water. Let's do this binge right.
Artist Man has mentioned nothing of coming to visit me this weekend. He's been awfully feisty the last week, with his smart-ass sarcastic replies. I want to see him, I do. But I'm not going to drive across town anymore to go see him. He needs to come to me for a change, damnit. Take that drive for me. Make the gesture.
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