Moving

Howdy. I've been holing up in my apartment in College town for the past two days, alternately binging and starving, smoking mucho verde, and just being lazy. Tomorrow is moving day. Today I started packing. Packing sucks, but like Mom says, "it's a good way to get organized." Organized, my ass. I'm perfectly organized. Losing all my possessions ensured that I'd never be weighed down by thousands of meaningless material items. I have what I need and what I want and I like it that way.

My tongue tastes gross and metallic-like. My stomach is in knots combined with super strong urges to go. Ahem. I'll admit I like that, I always feel thinner after a few minutes in the bathroom.

I know that I'm stressed about moving but something else is going on. J. has been completely ignoring me for a week now. Absolutely and completely. I've sent him a few messages over the days and gotten no response, whatsoever. Fuck him.

Good riddance, J. We're leaving this town but not together. I hope the memory of my face or a funny thing I said gives you hell.

I just stood up and smoked a cigarette. It did not help my stress at all. I stood there, smoking, panicking. It just took me so many tries to type that, my fingers are shaking like mad. Maybe I should eat something. LOL. Nah.

Oh you guys, can you just come pack my shit and move for me tomorrow? 

In other news, I've got 100 followers. Thanks. That's a nice even number for me to contemplate. You all are so sexy.

I'll get back to my shaking and packing and downloading music and smoking and pacing. Wish someone was here to give me a hug or a slap across the face.

Think thin.

Xo 

Sar

She's got chubby thighs and arms. Don't be like her. Be like her:

Skinny arms and legs win. Always.

At least moving burns calories.

Peace.