my cellphone charger arrived today. it turns out to not be mine. i hate packages right now. drama was uncomfortable stressful, in a gross way. i still dont want to talk about it. you know sometimes when im in a real comfortable sweater, i think, why the hell do i care what size my belly is? i still look okay, and fuck do i like food! those are the times i like. im going to stop buying small shirts. they will all cover my belly from now on. its easier than a diet. its also those times that i think who really cares about my belly? and i think that im not going to get much better, and no one really cares anywho. im not going to be a skinny blonde and i dont want to be. and i know theres someone who loves me despite the fact that i wont let her. and has she ever wished that i was skinny? no. and has she ever wanted anything more from me than i can give? no. so what the hell am i doing? dreaming. imagining that im going to look fabulous when i lose this weight and that one day the mariachi player is going to sweep me off my feet. and then we wake up. read her comment and let it soak. theres some really great things sitting in front of me that im just coloring the wrong colors and putting in the wrong containers. ill do it one day. one day it will all fit, including my jeans. im still an awkward teenage, afterall.