I feel strange. Not bad, just odd… like a part of me has split away from myself and is dragging me down. I’m not depressed, but I can feel a low mood trying to creep in.
I have no right to feel this way. Things are going fine. Yet I want to cry, for no damn reason. I wanted to write about how lovely the weekend was, how S took me to Liverpool for a day out and spoiled me rotten. I wanted to write about troubles I’ve had with Z. I wanted to explain how I’m feeling about dieting. Yet.. I’m tired. I had over sixteen hours’ sleep last night, but I’m still exhausted.
I have so much to write about. I just don’t want to. I want to disappear. I don’t know why. I don’t understand it.
God. The urge to get the razor out is so damn strong.
I want to purge.