Eight Days

How many are left until I go back.

Good riddance to 2009.

I don't know if I can characterize any year of my life as a "bad" year, because there always seems to be a mix of good and bad. I think the best year of my life was the 18th one, full of adventure and change and new beginnings. Of course that meant that the 19th one was going to suck balls, at least kind of. Or maybe more that 2009 was going to really bite it. I'm not sure whether or not the beginning to year 20 was a fortuitous one. I got a clean bill of health, but I anticipated that, and I spent it hung over, having a nurse stab needles into my neck one by one in a bright and sterile room.

I don't think that counts as a good one.

I kind of wish I were more balanced. I feel like everything that propels me to do well is also inevitably my undoing. I am obsessive and perfectionist and thus I do well in school and can't stop working on something until it is finally done. I am obsessive and perfectionist and so I am constantly wracked by fears of inadequacy and body image issues (just like every other girl in America, but oh well). I spent a year working out and trying to eat better and lost the extra weight but now every time I eat I feel guilty. It's not useful anymore. It's just awful. I don't know how to make it stop. One's immediate reaction after a meal should not be "oh shit, I ate, now I have to go work out or I'm going to get fat." That doesn't make any sense. It frightens me that something in my brain can be going that wrong.