twenty-eight.

I hate crying for no reason.

I hate the fact that when nothing is really wrong it feels like the world is coming to the end.

---
food/drinks:
319289318230982319 cups of water
Tofu scrambled with organic veggies [200]
The smallest cookie ever [30]

other: 
2 cigarettes





total calories: 230 [so far]




exercise:
Short run, a hike

harm [day 4]:

None. :3

Dad saw my arm. He didn't say anything except to not pick. 

The majority on my arm still haven't closed, but almost all of them have scabbed over and only a few are infected. I'm kind of pissed off that I'm going to go back to school in January with noticeable scars on my arm. I don't want to be that kid again, that one kid that everyone sees as the depressed, troubled one. The fragile one. I've been that person before, that was my role for a long time in school. I don't want that again. I suppose I'll invest in a lot of long sleeves.




notes:
Thanksgiving is tomorrow.
I'm so fucking nervous.
There's going to be mashed potatoes and pies and cookies and casseroles and akdwhkjehakjehajeajkeaweqwq. I'll be excused from meat dishes because I'm a vegetarian, but I'm so worried. adajwkljeaejekaehja. This is not a good time for this. I feel like I just dealt with last year's Thanksgiving and it's back again.