We are far too young and clever
And things won't ever change.
20 December 2003
9:25 a.m.
So it's been a while. The semester is over. I got two As and two Bs. 3.43 this semester. If I'd gotten two hundredths of a GPA point higher, I would have made the Chancellor's List again. I made the Dean's list. My cumulative GPA is 3.1 now, which is the GPA I'll be applying to grad schools with. I guess it's not that bad. Well, it is what it is, and nothing I do now is going to change it. So I won't bother worrying about it. Things are coming together now with the grad school stuff. My recommenders have my letters of recommendation to fill out over break, I've taken the GRES (1260 out of 1600, and I haven't gotten the essay grades back yet), I've got all the applications to fill out over break. I'm going to stop thinking about it now, it's stressing me out.
I guess I'll take a moment to tell you about my eating and exercising. It's a big negatory on the exercising, I haven't working out in a while. It's been a rough semester. Maybe I'll go more in the spring, maybe I won't. I hope I do. I guess I'm eating like a normal person, and almost conceptualizing food like a normal person. I still take the phentermine sometimes to help with appetite. I'm trying to follow a few reasonable eating suggestions. Eat when you're hungry. Eat slowly. Drink a lot. Stop eating before you're stuffed. Eat breakfast, preferably something with some protein. If I eat breakfast, I'm not really hungry again til two or three in the afternoon. I'm ready to grow up. Not be mature, necessarily. Just not be a dumbass anymore.
I weight the same as always, plus or minus the same seven pounds or so. I've weighed this for two years. Whatever. I'm not complacent at this weight, but I'm not miserable.
I'm at home, which is kind of stressful. I try not to let things bother me. My whole family is sick, sinus infections, repiratory things. It's like they all have the plague. They're all suprised that I'm not sick, but I have an immune system of steel. Since high school, I've only been sick once, a cold. So I've been taking care of them. I did all the laundry, cleaned the house, fixed the toilet, I do the dishes every day, made dinner, cleaned the guinea pig cage. I goes on and on. But I don't really care that much. I don't mind cleaning. I do mind that half an hour after I clean a room, my family has destroyed it again. But what can you do.
I want to cut myself, and I don't really know why. I feel blank inside, I feel empty. I want something to concentrate on, to focus my thoughts. When my family acts like dicks and fuck up all the good things I do, I want to peek into my shirt sleeve and see all the evidence of how fucked up I am and how shitty it can all be sometimes. Nothing calms me like knowing my arm is sliced up under my shirt. I remember being in English class in tenth grade, six years ago now, and rubbing my sleeve, feeling the raised wounds underneath. I was the only one the knew about all the blood and bandages.
Once, back when I was in therapy sophomore year, my therapist asked me if I cut anymore, and I said, 'no, not really.' She asked my what I replaced it with, I guess wondering what my coping strategy was, and I said, 'bulimia.' And now I wonder if I've replaced bulimia somewhat with cutting, at least in my mind. I don't know if I even have any razor blades here.
But I don't really want to cut myself. I'm going to see my doctor, see if she'll put me back on Celexa. I only quit taking it in the first place because my mom wanted me to. This time I won't tell her.
Previous:::Next
The End - 07 February 2007
Updatery - 03 December 2004
Not much to say - 13 November 2004
- - 11 November 2004
Hindsight is 20/20 - 11 November 2004
