I just wrote a long unsent letter in my other diary. It was to Brian. He reads my diary. I don't know if I want him to read it or not. I really don't know.
I woke up first when my alarm went off around 5:35 am to take a shower for school. I slept in, saying 'fuck the shower.' Well I woke up when my mom bursted in at 6:55, when we had to leave for school in one minute. I asked her if I could stay home, and she agreed. So I went back to sleep and woke up at 10:00 and went downstairs. I refused to eat when my mom offered french-toast or an omelete. I said no thanks, and I don't care. She made me an omelete and made me eat it. I didn't wanna. It usually tastes of happiness and an ok day. Not this time. It tasted bitter and of mixed and hurt feelings. I took a half an hour to eat it. I have no more secret stash of laxatives, so it will stay in my system. Damn it.
My best friends are getting suspicious when I don't eat lunch, and very little. I stare at calories on everything and I hate myself if I eat anything that doesn't say how many calories it has. I may have some trouble when it comes to Chelsea's Birthday Party this month. She always has a lot of food and she gets worried when she offers food and you refuse. She may not see that she does, but I can see it. And in her and Sam's eyes, they may be worried. I wish they weren't. It's my life, and I want to have control over atleast one thing. my eating. So I'm controlling it. Nothing much goes in, if it does, I try to get it right back out again.
One of my dogs, Mack, has lyme disease, like I did. I had it a few years ago. Poor Mackenzie. He couldn't move at all. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't go to the bathroom. He couldn't wag his tail. He was sore, whimpering, and wanting help. I should have seen it. I acted the same when I had it. He couldn't even lick my dad and give him a kiss. Macky, I miss you. Mackenzie-get well soon. He'll have a splint on his leg he was limping on where the tick must have been. He's coming home tonight, so I'll probably update about him tomorrow.
Some of my friends and everyone are coming back from Washington D.C. tonight. I want to talk to Chelsea. Not really Sam, but Chelsea. Chels and I have had many arguements and problems, but I feel just a little closer to her. I feel as she knows me better. Oh, I'm still friends with the both of them and I love them like sisters, but I find it easier to talk to Chelsea. I have been uneasy all these 3 days they were in D.C. I haven't eaten, except for that goddamned omelete I was forced to shove down my mouth. I have to tell Chelsea. She can help. She will hate me for it, give me a lecture, but I missed her this week. I miss talking to her. I can talk to her tomorrow. Shit, my family will be home. Maybe I'll ask her mom to have her call me asap when she comes home from the trip. No matter how late, and pull of a 'it's important' and sniff and have tears stunt. Well it's true. And I need her help, more than anyone. I have a problem. My heart is spilt. It feels stabbed. And I'm alone bleeding. It hurts, it hurts.
the girl
i'm lorelai. brown hair. tall. 15 years old. bisexual and proud of it. wiccan. coffee & cereal addict. creative. lives for music and friends. irish. wants to fuck craig parker and keith. make fair trade. want more? see my eljay
loves
steal away. coldplay. stars. christie. music. friends. cutting. piano. magic. shoes. reading. lotr. harry potter. writing. piercings. tattoos. swearing. true love. my sisters
loves
school. liars. matt. people who think they're 'all that'. abercrombie. boy bands. hilary duff. rap music. commercials. homophobics. hot weather. unrequited love. jerks. lawn work. pain.