Wow. I cannot believe some people. My only reaction is a silent “Wow…”, a look of disbelief, shaking my head a bit, and adding one more reason to my list. And I thought I was the friendship ruiner. I guess these things that keep adding up over time makes it easier for me to do what I should have done a long, long time ago. 

On a much better note, I am visiting my future college today and tomorrow! I am nervous… but also quite excited. I am mostly nervous because I’m worried I won’t feel well, which I most likely will not for parts of it…

Another sleepy day… or “sleep drunk”, as the naturopath said. I’m basically exhausted all day. I shuffle out of bed in the morning because I didn’t even hear my alarm, eat breakfast, and I’m so &@^%ing tired that I fall back into bed for a nap and really can’t find a reason to get up. Ugh. I do not feel good. It doesn’t help that I’m feeling sad… sad… sad…

Then my family had lasagna for dinner. I really like lasagna. Too bad I couldn’t eat any of it. No, salad for me. I like salad too. But it’s just not lasagna. Apparently the first two weeks of gluten-free is the worse, and that’s over for me now.

I’m nervous for tomorrow. And I really, really do not feel good. I don’t know why I don’t feel good, and I can’t really explain how I don’t feel good, either.

M.I.A.’s ‘Paper Planes’ is completely endearing, I’ve listening to that song so many times. As I’m listening to it right now. At five in the freakin’ morning. Oh, I went to sleep around 1:30 am. And woke up with a jolt of energy just now. BRILLIANT. I owe it to myself, especially after yesterday… But what accounts for the 14 hours of needed sleep on day, and the 3 1/2 hours the next? This is certainly weird. 

I hate everything right now. I hate myself. I hate art. I hate music. I hate books. I hate tv. I hate commercials. I hate everyone. I hate my dogs. I hate outside. I hate inside. I hate the universe. I don’t even want to exist anymore. I hate everyone. Because everyone is a liar. I’m a liar. I hate myself.

I’M SO SICK OF EVERYTHING!!!

I have never been to the Daffodil Parade before today. In fact, I told my Dad I didn’t think I’d ever been to a parade my whole life—he reminded me of those parades in Disneyland. Well, I think those were a bit different. 

We got there, set up chairs, and walked around to look at the people and places downtown. I like wearing sunglasses in such environments—too many people in one place makes me nervous and so, they’re like some shield for me. And perfect for people watching. 

I’d say my favorite part of the parade were the bands that marched well and the clowns. And the soldiers marching along, so solemn and robotic. 

Afterwards we went to McDonalds to buy fries and coffee. I said how very American I felt, going to a parade then to McDonalds, and my Grandma said, “Well, they have McDonalds all over the world now.” How true. 

   

Alright peeps, this is going to sound pathetic, but about five minutes ago, I realized that I am not fat. I know—ridiculous, right? I’m not going to tell you how tall I am or how much I weigh, but lately (as in the past few months) I’ve been feeling rather short and pudgy. This is probably due to my late night eating (hey, by the time midnight rolls around, my stomach is growling) and ‘oh who cares’ attitude during those particularly depressed periods. Since these sort of things happen a lot, you can see why I might have added a bit of extra pudge. Oh no—I’m getting hips and there is no longer a smooth line from my torso to the thighs of my size 0 jeans. Gasp.

I’m not one to get too caught up in fashion, cosmetics, hair, etc. I’d say I indulge in a reasonable amount of new clothes, shimmery stuff (I bought my first blush and eye liner this year! Not because my parents wouldn’t let me or anything. I just… was… lazy? Who knows. I’d borrow my mom’s if I needed it before…), and hair products. So basically, I am pretty level-headed when it comes to these things. No manicures, no highlights, no fake tans, no fake eyelashes… you get the idea. However, don’t get the impression that I’m condemning you if you do embrace any of these beauty enhancers. I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a Vera Wang formal or over-priced cosmetics from Sephora or a year-long natural tan if they were given to me…

I’ve been disillusioned by the fashion industry. I eat up America’s Next Top Model, and I shun it all the same. Magazines are filled with gorgeous models with clear skin, long legs, shiny hair, and pearly smiles—let’s face it: I will always have some blemish or red spot on my face, I have to roll up jeans to fit my Asian legs, my hair cooperates about 10% of the time, and even though I’ve had braces, my teeth aren’t perfect. So when I look in the mirror, I see a disproportionate freak with a big nose and a smile that makes me look like one of my quirky troll dolls. Cute, but in a weird, kinda creepy way…

As I’m not a guy, I’m not sure what you menfolk think about all of this. Is your perfect girl that size 0, five-foot-ten, blonde bombshell? I guess my thought—I’m sure oodles of other girls and women will identify with this—is that I worry guys only want the girls like the Miss USA contestants. Even if he loves you and marries you, he’ll always secretly wish he had the tall gall with the cute nose. I’m worried the sentiments of someone I know are more popular than I realized, and that horror reached me when she said, “I am not friends with fat people. None of my friends are fat.” By fat, I think she meant a couple ounces of fat and non-rock-hard-abs. This terrified me—would someone avoid my friendship because I was fat? Then I remember that time a guy-friend poked my leg and said something like, “Oh my gosh, you have no muscle!” Sorry I’m a girl and I have a curve that is not defined by muscle. 

There have been times when, in fits of self-loathing, I tell myself what a fat cow I am and I shouldn’t eat anything but spinach and green tea. It’s horrible that I should ever have had these thoughts, because really, when I see myself next to someone who’s wearing a size 7 pair of jeans, I realize how my perceptions of my body are way out of whack. Size 7 is normal, people, and I’ve been telling myself I’m FAT for goodness sake… I know. HOW RIDICULOUS. 

I know this is something I’m going to have to work on. Maybe it means not watching the Miss USA pageant (bad idea), not flipping through magazines, and not watching America’s Next Top Model. I honestly don’t know what it is going to take to revolutionize my way of thinking—no matter how skinny I am, I have a feeling I will always feel like there is something wrong with me. Damn Twiggy! (Not really but you know what I mean.) I believe she had quite the part in changing the ideal woman from Marilyn to… toothpick girl. (Okay I’m getting all PC here. If you are naturally a toothpick, embrace it. But don’t starve yourself to get there. If you’re BMI is getting unhealthy, cut back on the ice cream and go for a run.)

(This comic is very hilarious to me…)

I cannot concentrate! I’m trying to read about U.S. foreign trade policy under FDR and tariffs. I’m sorry lovely AP U.S. History, but I honestly could care less. My mind cannot stay on anything for long recently. It darts from one thought to another, all day long! And I’m getting a migraine! So that’s why I ended up on here, to write about pointless things…

I feel like my dizziness is getting better! There are actually moments now when I do not feel dizzy—this is very exciting for me. Hooray! Well I feel dizzy right now and not so good, but… It’s slow, but it’s something at least. I hope this is a steady uphill climb of getting well for me. Although I realize I will most likely suffer from this off and on my whole life, I really would like for it to get better before I go to college. That is my hope…

…you called me just to tell me you loved my music.

…you told me I was “wicked smart” and not to deny it.

…I figured out you were the first person I felt comfortable crying on the phone to!

…you gave me that CD. Hmm…

…you laid on the bathroom floor and moaned about nonsense. You actually liked me!

…you knew exactly what I was thinking before I even said it. But you told me to say it anyways.

…you stared at me and I said, “What?” and you said, “Nothing, you’re just cute.”

…you told me to get over it.

…you went through Hell and can’t seem to remember how much it sucked. You can’t even help me now… it almost makes your years of tragedies pointless.

…you took my mom outside the room and told her I was faking it.

…you acted like I was disposable around other people, and now when it matters, it’s too late.

…you did your best to avoid me. I still don’t know why! Because you still do it!

…you complained about being second-best, when you second-best me all the time.

…I realized that you needed me a whole lot more than I needed you.