i hate packing. and my mom is being ridiculous because we have a month left to pack everything but she insists i sort through it all now. she's nervous about getting her galbladder removed i think.

i would like packing if i didn't have to get rid of things. sorting through my old stuff is kind of fun (i found old journals and letters). i have to look at each thing and decide how much sentimental value it has, whether i want to take it to school or to my mom's new place or just chuck it.

i found a pair of doc marten's that i got in 7th grade. they still fit. i don't know if i like them still.

and she looks really serious

I figure I owe this to you, people who read or have read this

But all this equality and justice is killing me

I don't say this out of bitterness

I think we just couldn’t see that we were actually masochists

I feel helpless

 i don't know what to say about this incident except to say...

So, yeah, if I could do this all over again, I would do it differently

When we were just...

Its exciting, but to be honest, I'm more scared

Scarsdale Xangas

but you're all very selfish

which isn't to say that i'm not selfish too.

i can't focus on my essay and keep finding minor distractions. so my sister and i walked into the village to get coffee. and when did we really stop having things to talk to each other about? but i can't really feign dissappointment because i kind of don't care. it just felt like it should be a little sad.

i wrote this entry that i really wanted to make public and i felt like i couldn't because it was about my body. and i didn't want to be that girl that thinks she's fat and drives her friends crazy and that no one takes seriously. but i was so scared when i got upset tonight and the first thing i thought about was my body. old habits apparently just don't die. and i miss my old body so much sometimes.

i feel like i've lost so much of myself since freshman year. i feel like i've become older in the worst way possible.