I am okay.
The boy who broke my heart and I had sex. A lot. And then he left for a year to be stationed 1800 miles away. We talk every day. He still loves me. I am a mess of emotions and confusion and anger.
I am doing really well in most of my classes. I keep writing essays for one of my professors and he keeps giving them back with a bright and shiny perfect score on top. I knew I failed a 2 point question on my quiz, and thought it was going to be along with a few other things but turns out that 2 point question was the only one I missed, and that professor only docked me 1 point because I demonstrated knowledge about the subject, even if I got the answer wrong. My professor, who is the Smartest Man I Know gave me a B on my paper, and that is exciting because he is so hard to write for.
I am doing okay.
My weight is a mess.
I have to find a new place to live at the end of the semester because my roommate is moving out unexpectedly and I cannot afford this place on my own, and I do not want to search for another person with whom I might get along.
I have been trying not to stress so much about my future. I've been trying to trust that the universe will take care of me and place me where I need to be when I need to be there. But it is so hard, y'all.
Today/yesterday was my dad's birthday and it marks yet another year that I did not speak to him. Last month my mother held a house party and while obscenely drunk, I cried to her and our old neighbor about how he'll never love me. It was messy and it made her really sad, but it helped me kind of come to terms with the fact that he'll never be the father I want him to be. He'll never be the dad who will walk me down the aisle, or tell me he's proud of me, or tell me he loves me. He's the dad who will criticize and manipulate and provoke me into anger and I cannot have room in my life for that anymore. My peace is more important.
And with that sentiment, I sign off.
I hope you all are finding what you need.
<3 Lee
