Happy Home

I’ve smoked quite a bit. I really want to buy ice cream, comfort food, what have you buttttt money that should have gone to food went to cigarettes. And I recognize that eating my feelings isn’t necessarily the best coping mechanism though GOD do I love the weight going entirely to boobs. I have problems. I know that. I’ve fallen more than once, I will continue to fuck up. The only thing I can do is take it one day at a time or I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.

I’m starting an actual, written journal. Maybe it’ll do me some good.

I talked with Deer extensively last night, and I think it did some good. Scratch that. I know it did. Yes, he’s an asshole. Yes, you can be too. Thus the old moniker, Marine Asshole. I just want someone to be proud of me, one day.

He told me to stop crying. So, I did. I literally lost count today of how many times I wanted to cry, yet refrained. “Should I bite my tongue until blood soaks my shirt?” yeah, is about my state. I dunno if that’s healthy or not. But if I talk to Bellatrix later tonight then yeah I give myself license to cry and smoke as much as I damn well please.

Goodnight world.

I will be waking up if Voldemort or Bellatrix calls, then working tomorrow. Joy of joys.