Today is my birthday. What can I say about it other than the fact that I partied hard last night/this morning. I worked late, smoked, went to a bar, then to K.'s. We drank and blew lines. How mature of me. /not. It's over now. The damage is done. I missed one class because I was too exhausted to wake up after intensive partying. I went to one class this afternoon high. I contributed nothing to the discussion but took a few notes. Then I ate. Ew. 1/2 vegan panini, chips, 4 pickles, mango lemonade smoothie. I just ate some chocolate whopper candies. FUck my FAT self.
It is now 4:23 pm, I am of course smoking, and I do not know what to do with myself. My impulsive side suggests a shopping trip, which always makes me feel better. My stoner side says smoke more, until it's gone, so I can buy again. Fuck. My sleepy side whispers thoughts of light breezes and a lazy afternoon.
I am gaining weight. I feel it and I see it. I am going to weigh myself real quick, on my stupid scale, to prove myself RIGHT!
Back- I weigh 136. Horrible. I asked K. last night if she thought I gained weight, she said no. I did not believe her then, and I am reassured on how fat I truly am. I am so gross to look at. I guess this is what happens when you get old like me. 23. Can't believe it. I hate myself lately.
Sad that I feel this way today, but my birthday was never my favorite holiday.