I want to be able to say I'm happy, and actually mean it. I want to be able to eat a piece of cake, without crying or purging or anything else. I want to not keep finding ways to hurt myself. I slipped up, again. Found another blade, sliced my wrist open. It felt so..amazing. And yet I'm so ashamed. I can't stop wanting to hurt myself. I can't help that I just want to stop breathing, but I don't want to leave E.

I told E that I've only been half-ass trying to recover. I promised I...

I want to be happy.

Fuck this shit. I'm going to be happy.

I don't care about him. Let him do what he likes. I don't need him, I don't need the friends who aren't really friends and leave me for him and I don't need to listen to him.

I'm going back to school soon. And I'm going to get the best grades I can. I'm going to do writing. I'm going to apply for uni. I'm going to read good books. I'm going to go out with my friends. I'm going to get my ears pierced....

What a revelation, right? Not. My family and so forth were constantly blaming my on-going "poorness" and inability to pay bills on my poor budgeting skills. The truth is, you can only get your money to stretch so far - you can't create it out of nothing if you need it to make that one extra bill. You just end up in debt.

Now I'm getting more money. About double what I was getting before. Before, after my rent had been redirected, I got $86 a week. Now, after my rent's been...