Well, fuck me. (The sentence that's my new constant personal narrative). I went to Eugene with my best friend for two days and had two days packed full of fun. I ate "normally" both days because she wanted me to, and it fucked me up. I feel so fucking fat and filthy. I bought myself some water pills and took an OD of them this morning before the trip home. Eugene was therapeutic otherwise. Spent time at Morning Glory, bought old postcards and ephemera. Found a puzzle that was of one of my favourite paintings, and stayed up 8 straight hours trying to finish it in the hotel. Bought a new Moleskine (finally). It was carefree and fun for the most part. So today, after not contacting Laura for almost a month (I'm sad and couldn't do it okay), she texts me to tell me she's started dating someone. Which I'm very happy about! I really am, she deserves to be dating someone and Ryan is completely the right person for her right now. It just brought me back to the thing I've been trying to forget; that I really am made to be alone. Which sounds really really dramatic but fuck it, it's not even how I feel anymore, but more just a fact that I know. I am a shitty person to date, even if people could get past my lack of looks. The really screwy part is that I want to date? I do and I don't. I want affection, but I know I'm not meant to have it and will ultimately reject it. It's fucked. I have an interview for student body senator at KCC tomorrow morning. I think I know what I'm doing to myself here. I signed up for 12 units at KCC, along with high school courses, and now I'm interviewing for a 5+ hr a week position at KCC. I can't sleep anymore, so I'm seeing a doc in a day or so (last appt didn't work out) to get sleeping meds prescribed. I already plan on having him eventually up the dose and stashing some. I'm making it easier and giving myself good reason to end it all in the future. My friend Megan, whom I went to Eugene with, gave me her DBT workbook to use for myself. It's full of quizzes and self-assessments and such that you are supposed to see the answers to and use them for helping yourself. My problem is that I have no real desire to get better at all. Because I'm positive that I don't have a real disorder or illness. I definitely am making it all up. So I don't see why getting a real therapist other than my friends' therapist (whom her and her mom have made me promise to text occasionally) would do me any good. The therapist would just say "You're a sick hypochondriac! Have a nice day!". So it's all pointless, but I promised I'd text and do the workbook, so here I am. My nose is feeling fresh from the soak, and I'm beyond thirsty right now from the water pills. I guess I'm done here.