I've gained back approximately 20 of the pounds I lost in 2011 since I started work.
I'm having skin issues for the first time in my life and my face looks like crap.
Lonely.
Tired of hearing myself say I'm lonely, tired of typing it out here, tired of worrying about it.
I live vicariously through romance novels.
I don't have a fair pair of jeans.
I don't have any outfit I can put on that makes me feel gorgeous.
I sit at home most weekend nights.
My mother is my most constant companion.
I feel like everyone is progressing in their lives except for me.
I miss DC.
I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.
I hate that no matter how much I work out, if I don't eat perfectly I gain weight.
I hate that I already know I'll have to work out and eat blandly for the rest of my life or else I'll blow up like a balloon.
I wish I were funnier.
I do not know how to flirt.
I am sick of hearing myself whine.
I'm always surprised when my superiors tell em they think I'm good at my job.
I'm still waiting to go on a great adventure.
My mother unexpectedly cleaned my bedroom for me and she found absolutely nothing dirty, awkward, naughty, or scandalous. I don't know whether to be proud or ashamed.
My crazy is crazier than ever.
S.
