I want to cry right now, though I'm not too sure what for. Perhaps it's because my mother and I got into a fight, which ended up in her kicking me out. Perhaps it's because I think H really is falling out of love with me. Or perhaps, it's the never ending battle with my shitty self-esteem. I suppose I should explain the three topics:

1. A few weeks ago, I had developed a Urinary Tract Infection (UTI). Damn that bastard, H. Anyway, I took care of it accordingly, drank lots of water and cranberry juice, starting on a Friday. Saturday I was still flushing it out. Sunday, however, I was urinating blood. Obviously this is a serious symptom, so I made a mental note to go to the doctor the following business day, as the office is closed on weekends. (Sidenote to keep in mind: My family currently has outstanding medical bills from an accident my brother was in. He's fine, been fine - that kid is made of steel, I tell ya - but, I've been made aware that we are pinching pennies.) Monday comes along, no longer peeing blood, but I decide I still need to go to the doctor for meds after work. I tell this to my mother, as well as the seriousness of the matter, and she gets pissed, raging pissed, that I didn't tell her about it. Apparently she "had the right to know", as if she was the one dealing with it. On top of the UTI, I have also been aware of a suspicious lump on my labia (sorry if it's graphic). I told her that as well, and that pissed her off even more. Long story short, it got physical, she wouldn't let me leave the room, hit me, yelled at me, called me ungrateful and selfish, et cetera et cetera. All of which ended up in me being kicked out of the house due to the "my house, my rules" policy. Apparently, my body and personal health needs to be her business.

Since then, we have spoken, nothing important, mostly about school and what not. I did tell her that I cannot and will not come back unless we see a therapist. After all, she is one of the primary reasons for this damned disease. But I do miss her.

2. The past two nights, I stayed over at H's house because "when the parents are away..." That being said, and to keep things PG-13, he left. Right in the middle. Simply said, "I'll be right back", left the room for a few minutes, then climbed back into bed with his back turned to me. I want to break down and cry just thinking about it. And he doesn't tell me he loves me, only until after I tell him. Really, the only thing I can do right now is to prepare myself for the worst. Cue the depression.

3. I've hit the lowest of the low. Rather than puking into a toilet bowl, I've taken up empty beverage cups and grocery bags from inside my car...in the privacy of my car. I have to feel my own hot vomit in my lap, sitting uncomfortably with the empty 32oz cup between my legs, hunched over it, hoping I don't miss it and get it on my jeans or the seat instead. One word can describe this type of behavior; pathetic.

I am dead to the world for now. Hopefully the cause of death is starvation. Maybe then, at least I'll be pretty. At least I'll be worthy.

I hate this.