stream of consciousness, part i

I'm taking a break from writing fiction because I have a zit inside my ear (I swear to God) and it's making me cranky. So now I'm mad and uninspired.

{for those with less than 20/20 vision that says: that's high school me pretending to be happy but really I was just hungry}

anyway, I was just thinking. Four years ago today, I was underweight. I was sick physically and really, really, really sick emotionally. I couldn't wait to go off to college so that I could starve and overexercise in peace without having my parents on my case all the time. I was mean to my friends. My sister and I, once so close, grew miles and miles apart. I wanted to look ill because I thought maybe it would relieve the pain and hurt that I felt inside (I never claimed to be a logical thinker).

I made whole wheat brownies with Splenda for MY BIRTHDAY, Jesus Christ.

and then when I found out Splenda has like, 4 calories per packet, I almost had a heart attack. Remember Meg?

and honestly all I have to say to this is, thank God I met Mike.

obviously a boyfriend can't cure an eating disorder. Well. Duh. But as a person and a friend he's taught me to care more about my career and my family and laughing and everything other than the gap between my thighs (which, for the record, doesn't exist). So whatever happens with us in the future, I'll be glad I met him. I think people do come into your life for a reason.

I think I've also taught myself to care about these things, too.

I've come pretty far in the past few years. I wouldn't have thought I'd be here four years ago, but I am so glad I am.

is it all right to say that I'm kind of proud of myself and happy with the person I've become? Is that cocky to say?