Manic Weekend

I put on the biggest show whenever I see TR. It's like I revert back to some kind of primal self, half-child, half-animal.

Instinctive and Spontaneous.

Food intact was sporadic. There's no scale here, so I can't keep thinking about it.

We don't go a day without fighting, usually because of something I've instigated. Then I abuse him with affection. Tiring really.

He gets sick of me doing the things I do though. Trying to hang myself with twine. Stealing his roommate's Venus razor blade refill to get my aggression out (he sighs, and quietly takes out the first aid kit almost as ritualistically as my previous act). I whine and plead to dye my hair all weekend.


"Please, will you pay for me to get a haircut?"

I lock myself in the bathroom and begin to snip and chunk and chip away. Then I dye my hair the most vibrant unnatural purple I could get my hands on. TR just sighs.

---

I swallowed a dime. There were threats of taking me to the hospital to see what's done to idiot non-children who do things like that. I told him I'd get rid of it, and purged and purged until everything from that day was gone. Except the wretched piece of metal.

You all know, I don't purge. I'm bad at it. It makes me feel dirty. I can't get the smell off myself.

I lied and told him that I rid myself of the dime. Inside, I'm thinking about how much a dime weighs.

---

I think if I were left to my own devices with TR, I would drink pressed apple juice and red vines forever. He would eat burritos, weird asian wraps with peanut sauce, and sometimes pizza.

---

I have to go back into the welcoming hateful arms of Southern California unexpectedly tonight. My Visa application was rejected for some stupid insignificant reason. But reason enough to keep me out of the UK unless I start getting less manic with TR and channel that energy into making some calls and bothering some people.

Goal: No tears & >1000cals (I know it's alot, but I haven't been counting lately)