I can't think inside my head as well as I can think on paper...or on a screen. It goes in circles.

Suppose I do want to put an effort into this. That's so scary. It's like all these chapters in my life that I only ever thought about being in the distant future are all happening at once. Losing a parent. Being independent more than ever before. All of a sudden having the possibility of a proper relationship standing at the door.

That's the scariest part. Well, no, it's not, but I've already gotten through the worst, which was losing one parent.

So suppose I do go with the option of renting from him for two months. What would that mean? Nothing is set in stone...it doesn't have to be. Relationships end. I'm afraid of being hurt again or hurting him this time if it ends. Would it even start? Why am I being ridiculous? Of course it would. That's why he wants me to come there in the first place. And he's afraid of long distance. Which....I'm not going to say I get, because I don't, but whatever. Some people can't handle certain things. And we already did the long distance sort of half-relationship thing and it crashed and burned. Why go back to it?

I'm trying to figure out what counts? What is drawing me to him? Butterflies? Giddy smiles when I talk to him? The fact that he GETS me more than any other male species on the face of the planet? He has stability, which probably should be something I care about but I don't, and he's the type of person that I can be all aspects of myself around. Quiet and moody, giddy and childish, adventurous and explorative... all these things.

So is that what counts? What counts? Is there a moral absolute to what counts or matters in a relationship? Or is it what matters to me? It must be what matters to me, because different things matter to different people. But at the same time there are moral absolutes.

He agreed to the compromise of me renting from him for two months...my brain made a leap in intuition just now. Okay. I'll do it.

Sh*t.

I'm going to try. I'll...what do I have to do?

It's almost like, nothing to lose. Don't date while living in his house, but I will be able to save money to move out...and my dad wants to move to Ohio anyway...so it's like a win-win thing. If we are still compatible after two months of being strictly roommates, then I move out and get my own place, work, be independent, and we start to actually date. And I don't really know what happens after that lol.

What's supposed to happen after that? What really happens in a dating relationship? I don't freaking know. My longest official relationship was three months. Kinda pathetic.

So....save money to go to norway, save money to move to ohio, how much do I need for the room, need to make contacts over there, need to research neighborhoods, find out what the market for tutoring and postmates and uber and stuff is like, goal is.....move there by next fall.

WOW.

Okay. Might as well try, right? The failsafe is going to norway before that happens. So.....it's doable.

Okay.

OKAY.

What to do if you feel like talking to him?

But that would be unfair to him....because I'm never going back to him. Would that make him sad? If I called? Would I like it if someone did that to me? Would that be playing with his emotions? He deserves better than that.

I should not call him.

Otherwise I'd be sending mixed signals. I don't mean to do that. Would it be sending mixed signals? He said he didn't call on purpose because he knew I'd never pick up.

The aquarius part of me wants to call just to be unpredictable. But it's not nice to be unpredictable with someone's emotions. I don't want karma to screw me over even more. But I feel like talking to him.

I have to leave for work in 25 minutes anyway. So there's no point, right?

Right.

(I wish I could feel as convinced as I sound)

Am I getting my period soon? Is this hormones? I don't like WANTING to talk to people. It's an unpleasant feeling. Somewhere in the chest region. A sort of craving. I don't like it one bit.

Nope.

NOPE.

NOOOPE.

Body woes

This is bugging me, so I feel like I have to write about it.

I'm skinny.

But I'm also fat.

I know that makes no sense, but hear me out. Ever since my mother died, my appetite has been all out of whack...more like non-existent. I've dropped from 173 lbs to 152 the last time I was weighed, and that happened in about three months. I've lost even more weight since then, and here's the catch. I like being "skinny." My thighs are finally at a size I'm pleased with, and I had practically no gut. The downside? Practically no boobs. I mean, they weren't big to begin with, but now they're so small they barely fill half of my B cup bras. I was so pleased back in the beginning of the year that I finally could fill a B cup. Welp. That's gone.

Anyway, the thing is, with the lack of boobage, my self esteem is kind of plummeting. And also my butt has gotten extremely flat. Size ten jeans that I used to have to squeeze into are falling off of me. I don't have any womanly curves anymore. And that bugs me.

Now to top it off, I'm annoyed with myself that I've been eating unhealthy once I started eating again. Fast food and fast food and fast food. KFC and burgers. And the first place I put on weight is my belly. So now I'm flat chested, flat butted, and big bellified. I might be looking at it out of proportion - I mean, maybe it doesn't look as bad as I think it does, but I'm fed up. The other day a friend of the family bought me lunch (burgers and fries from Checkers, and the meal had the sodium warning on it that it exceeds the daily recommended level) and then dinner (fried chicken wings and french fries) and I mean, that's not my life.

I'm used to eating organic foods and whole grain rice and pasta and vegetables and stuff like that. The last time I went to the doctor for a physical the doctor was extremely impressed with my blood work and commented that it was "excellent." I want to stay that way.

I'm annoyed with myself that I caved in and ate the bad food. Now I'm noticing my stomach getting bigger. I just..........want to be perfect?

I'm being dumb, I know, but at the same time I also want to be healthy.

My dad made a comment a few weeks ago that I looked really thin, and it's been bugging me since then. I don't want to be ugly. I don't want to be grotesquely thin. I'm not....but my clothes are too big for me now and it's weird. I look nineteen instead of twenty seven.

I can't even find the better portion of my clothes since we moved.

I just want to be pretty.

I want to have two shelves over the head of my bed, so that I can put novels and hanging vine plants on them...

And I really hope I find the screw set to assemble my bed and desk soon. :) I'm actually getting excited about my room now...and I got blinds for my window yesterday! And they're fancy. You just touch the bottom and push up, rather than dealing with that pesky string that you used to have to pull.

Anyway.

Yeah.

I miss Cody.

Not okay.