The roommates and I finally went grocery shopping after a week and a half of pasta entrees and ramen ran out. Because I'm openly "eating healthier" - aka restricting and eating next to nothing in veggies - they've decided they want to be healthy too. So our fridge is stocked with a bunch of awesome, negative-calorie foods, like celery and spinach and blueberries. I'm finally back on track and the scale shows it! Monday I weighed in at 120.0, Tuesday the same (~dread), Wednesday 118.3 and today I'm 116.4. Slowly but surely making progress. I just need to keep it up.

B came over last night, despite my better judgement and immense feeling of being fat/bloated. But he said it would only be 15 minutes, he just wanted to have Bman -the best friend and roommate - and I to listen to his band's newly recorded songs. What was supposed to be a brief visit, turned into a four hour ordeal. I love having him over, but there's just something that's missing, like there's something off. It's nothing serious though, we're not dating, just kissing each other. It's no big deal. And I need someone else to kiss.

I just want your kiss boy.

It's true when they say you're not the same after your first love. Its true that they take something from you. Your innocence, your naivete, everything you once were. I realized that this morning. After this, I'm never mentioning you again. Why in the hell am I still thinking about you when I know you're not thinking of me? And if you are, I know it's about how stupid I am, something condescending like that. So, I'm done. No more. This is it. This is an emotional purge.

I went to the store today and bought a bunch of small *ish* calorie things, though I'd prefer no calories at all. I think Ana is back. Thank the porcelain gods. So far I've eaten:

Healthy Choice Clam Chowder: 220

few Saltine crackers: 70

Kashi TLC Pumpkin Spice Flax bar: 170

Miniwheats and soy: est. 250

Total: 610

I'm capping it off for the day.

A Letter I'll Never Send

H-

Not that it matters, but I still think of you, I still dream of you. Not that it matters, but I contemplate on a daily basis what it would have been like to still be with you, right now, this very second. Would I be happy? Or would I still be sad and full of resentment? You left me long before I left you, I can assure you that. I didn't want to marry you, like you thought for some god-awful reason. I just wanted your time. That's all. Just you.

I hate that every mutual friend we have I feel alienated around. I hate that I can't talk to you anymore. I hate that I don't have someone to sit around with and shoot the shit with anymore. I hate that you're not around to make me laugh and goof around with. I hate that. I HATE missing you. And when we broke up, I did something foolish. I decided to announce on fucking facebook that I was fine without you, but really I wasn't. It was a sorry attempt to get a rise out of you. I soon came to the realization that I only pushed you further away. I crushed all future hopes of reconciliation. Either way, if I hadn't lashed out the way I did, it's not like I'd hear from you anyway. Like I said, you were gone before it was even over.

I'm sure I haven't crossed your mind at all. I know this because I know how you treat people. But I want you to know that I think of you every day, for the time being anyway. Soon that will stop. I just wish I meant more to you than you let on in the end. I mean, shit, I wasn't asking for much. The only thing I can tell myself anymore is that you lied the whole time. That's the only reason, the only explanation for how things ended the way they did. This will be my last apology: I'm sorry I wasted eight months of your life and set your career path so off base. I'm sorry I took up so much of your precious time when you could have been doing other, more productive things. Though I don't feel any sense of responsibility for the aforementioned things, I think you do. I'm sorry that you feel you wasted your time. I don't regret anything, if at all being with you. I loved you. Loved you. But it's time to move on, not that it matters to you.

Goodbye,

Che

I forgot what it felt like to purge. It's been too long that I've been keeping the food in my fat tummy and not getting rid of it. It's not really helping my weight loss any though, so I guess I won't eat for the next four days. And I'm still having dreams about H.

This is the sad part, isn't it?

The nightmare ensues.

I was driving along on a desert highway, with a random unknown female companion. She was younger than me, but only by a year or so. I don't know where we were going, but we were running from something, or rather someone. Finally we reach this deserted beach, where I knew I'd find him. Emily was already there with Pam. They were there because H was back on heroin. He needed to be saved, only this time he didn't want to be. He was in the company of his old, toxic friends in an old wooden house that had been abandoned. He refused to look at me. There was a lot of yelling between H and Emily, him not wanting her help, and her screaming that she cared about him too much.

The two of them took off towards the boardwalk, and I wanted to follow but I couldn't. I'd been left behind and forgotten about. Everyone was telling me what I already knew: they belonged together. They loved each other. And there I was, left standing on a deserted boardwalk, in a beautiful dress that was meant for my father's wedding, watching them run off into the sunset holding hands. My best friend and my first love.

Was it just a dream?

Am I not allowed to miss you? Am I not allowed to regret everything I said, everything I did? Because I do. I miss you. I don't want anyone else but you. I'm a heroin addict that quit for the better, but I still have cravings. You're my heroin and I need you. You're the worst possible thing I could have in my life, by need you back to survive. I'm giving up my sober chips.

It was a 50/50 chance he'd be there. I wasn't sure what my standing was with our mutual circle of friends, wasn't sure if they still favored me. James assured me, reassured me. "Who cares? So what if he shows up? He doesn't mean anything to you any more." He had me convinced that I'd be fine should I have a run-in with H, but I made sure to dress extra cute just in case. I wore a pair of boots he particularly liked, a pair of pants with a giant hole in the knee that he'd always play with, and the shirt that had been time and time again taken off before we had sex. Every item of clothing was strategically placed, eyelashes curled, hair styled the way he liked it. Something he could no longer have. I was primped and ready to go.

After a 45-minute drive across town, James texted me letting me know H wasn't there and that I could count on him not being there. I was greeted with welcome arms by Sean, Robert, and Mick. All had the same thing to say, "Good for you for dumping him. You're too good for him, you knew that." I'll admit, I was a little disappointed that he wasn't there, disappointed I couldn't flaunt myself right in front of him. I was completely fine without him. An hour later, Matt finally shows up and says how H asked if there was a party. "And? What did you tell him?" Matt just gave some jumbled response, but it sounded like he told H not to come.

Everyone is here. I'm fine. Completely utterly fine, mingling with the new comers just like I used to before this eight-month fuck up. I was back to my normal self. All of the sudden, the back patio door flies open and Robert says, "H is here."

"WHAT."

"You heard me."

Immediately, my stomach drops. My hands are shaking. I can't breathe. They told him he couldn't come because I was going to be here. WHY THE FUCK IS HE HERE. Before I knew it, H was out on the back porch with the rest of the party. In his favorite green t-shirt and a new haircut. The initial shock passed and I realized I was fine. We didn't acknowledge each other, neither of us made eye contact. I was fine. He was fine. We moved on.

So fine in fact, that I sat across from him to listen to the party philosopher, telling us about our 'vibrations', while he was clearly already drunk. I think his name was Mike. Mike looks over at me through the cloud of smoke I exhaled. "So, what are you drawn to, what's your motivation in life?"

"Art!" I say with enthusiasm.

"Oh? What kind?"

"Photography. I'm a photo major." Mike pauses for a second to process this. Clearly he's spoken to H about his art as well. "No way," he says. "This guy," he says pointing his thumb over at H, "He's a photographer too. You guys have a lot of photographers in the group!"

"...Not really," I say, already uncomfortable with where this is heading. I glance over at Myia, she's just watching this all unfold. "Do you guys know each other?" Mike asks me.

"Yes," I say softly. We did know each other.

"Did you guys go to the same school?" I wish Mike would just shut up by now.

"Yes," I answer again.

"You know, I knew it. I could feel your vibrations towards each other, creating a strong bond." I'm not sure what Mike said after that, I got up and left. I went to smoke another cigarette, hoping the nicotine would relieve this terrible feeling Mike had just given me. A feeling of remembrance, regret, sadness. It was also then that I decided I needed a drink. Myia followed me inside. "Well, that was awkward," she says as I poured the Malibu.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"You could tell he was uncomfortable," she says.

"What do you mean?" And before I know it, we're talking about how I'm kidding myself to think I've moved on, that H has to care because he's so angry. He can't be angry about nothing. That if he didn't really care about me, he wouldn't have started to get all fidgety and tighten up when Mike was saying all that shit. That I'm silly to think that he didn't love me the whole time or genuinely give a shit, like I've been trying to convince myself because it's easier to move on when H turned out to be the biggest self-serving asshole rather than a guy who is hurt, too, about the relationship ending. Needless to say, I'm back at square one. My mind is reeling.

Alas, my haitis is over. I've decided to come down from this stupid dream cloud where I think I can eat whatever I want and not gain a pound. Because, surprise, I gained weight. It may have something to do with filling an empty void or some stupid (excuse) shit like that. So, today is the LAST DAY (September 12) that I will eat like a normal human being. Bring back the trash bags full of rejected food, the extra long showers for purges, the euphoric sensation from starving. I want it all back.

Other motivation for me to lose this damn icky pudge is a boy. B is a musician, and a good one at that. He's adorable and sweet, and everything that H lacked. He's just what I need in my life. Happiness. Pure and simple, no-pressure happiness. Not to mention, B is normal. He is a normal boy, with normal emotions, normal hobbies, normal friends. Need I go on? B is real. I could see myself really liking B for B. Not like it was with H, when I was in love with his potential.

Tra la laaaaaa...