OK. So I have fudge to my left, Starmix to my right, marshmallows in front and Jelly Babies behind me. In case I run out, there's a bit of birthday cake and a few packets of biscuits downstairs. In case I run out and don't want to move, there's a cold toastie and two-week-old (at least) jelly under my desk. I also have a nice cup of tea, month-old Sprite and Dr. Pepper which obviously isn't but is going to taste like it's from around the time that Dr. Pepper was invented. If I'm exaggerating then Hattie Hill and Kate Moss have about equal waist widths (ask Pooka if you want, that is NOT true). And if I'm going to purge at all, then I hate The Darkness and would never, ever, EVER post on their forum. This is my big fuck you to the world - only problem is, it's not the world I'm fucking up, it's me. Well, it would be if I hadn't fucked myself up to excess already.
Why did people get all (well, some) of this crap for my birthday? Can't they see that I DON'T WANT IT? I'm just gonna eat and eat and eat and feel bad about myself. If it weren't for having all of this to binge on I would be done with food obsession. I'd eat two meals a day (along with the 20 cups of tea but that can't be helped) like a normal person. I've never really binged without purging since before the food obsession, and back then I didn't even know that eating three packets of biscuits on the trot was called a binge.
Just yesterday I was saying that there was nothing wrong with me (apart from caffeine, nicotine, internet, shopping and love addiction, but none of that is THAT bad, right?), and today I find out that there is.
I wish I had something to do. Anything. I just talked to Shaun, thought I would feel better after talking to someone (yes, even Shaun) but it just made me feel worse. Why? Cuz he's at Sam's and they have Steve there too, and I talked to them all and it sounded like they were having a great time. And of course I was jealous. If I talk to someone better off than me I'll be jealous, if I talk to someone worse off the case will be that they'll want to talk about their lives and I won't get a word in, and then they'll get jealous of me and start criticising. I just want someone to moan to, someone who'll listen.