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plan for the next days💫

tomorrow: fast (or near-fast, under 100 cals). an actual workout yt video not just me doing random exercises. minimal 25 min.

saturday: 600 cal limit. get at least 10k steps.

sunday: try to fast. aim to eat as little as possible.

starting monday, i have actual in person school. i’ll try to do omad only eating lunch at school which i will prepare so i’ll have the calories and control. and then maybe a snack and my advent calender chocolate. 600 limit for the lunch and 200 for the snack, making my limit 800 a day.

i actually did decently in following my last plan so i hope i’ll be good this time as well

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i ate wayyy too much kill me. we were baking gingerbread cookies for christmas and i are SO MANY and i lost track. fml. i hate myself. and i’m going to school on monday fml. i ate ca 300 cals apart from that and i have no idea how many cals the stupid gingerbread was but i hope it wasn’t over 1000 but then again who knows. fmlfmlfml i need to fast tomorrow or at least eat under 400 cals like basically as little as i can. maybe have coffee and nothing else? seems like a good idea. and i also spent way too much money on clothing that i definitely don’t deserve ugh. i’m such a fucking stupid fat failure and i deserve nothing. i stg i’m fasting tomorrow i ate way too much these past 2 days like yesterday was ok that was kinda supposed to happen but NOT TODAY im a stupid idiot bitch no wonder noone likes me. going back to school is giving me sm anxiety fml. i wanted to come back once i was skinny and pretty ugh but NOO we have to go to school for a week and ONE day before christmas break. ugh i hate hate hate myself.

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She pushed me away, expressed that she had little interest in me and since I already tried to carry a conversation in order to ‘’catch up’’ and almost broke my back I beat her ass adieu and ghosted.

Why did I ever think it’d work out differently? I always set my self up for failure I swear to fucking God.

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help me…..I dont get my period cause I dont ovulate cause I have polycystic ovarian syndrome….if i dont take birth control i dont get periods….i just dont make eggs either….but since i started fucking my fwb i have started ovulating and getting my period….apparently that means our sexual chemicals are compatible and his hormones are making me ovulate and wanna get pregnant….i hate this new info…this is whack….that guy’s dick is so good it cured my infertility….fuck lmao

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Right now there are many things that fill me with anxiety and all of them have to do with the outside.

Today after work I did some shopping and some friends surprisingly touched me on the shoulder from behind and when I said “Please don’t touch me.” they just repeated my words and laughed. I just felt so tired and turned around to be on my own. They commented on that and all I could do was apologize and go away… having to deal with customers that are unwilling to wear masks correctly, a boss that doesn’t care about our safety… I just feel so worn out. That’s why I couldn’t even explain myself to my “friends”… I just felt like it wouldn’t change anything, the tiredness was all over my body in that moment. Today I thought about suicide a lot and how it is ok to wanna leave a world behind that is so full of selfish people that wear you out. Right now I continue to live so that I can pay off my loans and so that I can meet and talk to my best friend. Talking to him always makes me feel like smiling. And I know he is one of the few people who I still wanna hug and touch. I miss him and I want to make sure that we can meet in 2021. He is also the only person I still feel love for, next to my parents. It’s strange - all the shit I went through, all the shit I pulled and put him through - and at the end of the day I feel love for him and I trust him. I guess a person like me cannot truly be loved… but I want my own feelings for him and my family to be enough to keep me living for a while longer. But I don’t want to live for a long time - life has become too painful and I don’t wanna endure this forever.

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Okay as far as i remember the canon heights

Asmo: 5'9", Belphie & Mammon: 5'10", Levi: 5'11", Satan: 6”, Lucifer: 6’3”, Beel: 6'5" …

i know most people like em taller and im there too but look there r far too many advantages to having Eve 6'2" w these height she’d b taller than lucifer even w short heels and u know he’d HATE IT (at least until he gets over his ego n develop a taste 👀)..U know whod be all for it tho? ASMO

He’s hanging on her arm like…yall wish you were me ~ me? Territorial? No! *hisses to anyone who gets too close*

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Eve: Satan you’re so cute and proper ヽ( ´¬`)ノmy favourite type of person ~

Satan: (・∀・)

Eve: İ hope i have a son like you someday ^^

Satan: (ꐦ •᷄ࡇ•᷅)

Lucifer: 👂

Lucifer: (⌯¤̴̶̷̀ω¤̴̶̷́)✧

Satan: (っ’-’)╮ =͟͟͞͞🔪

Lucifer: 🔪==-三ღ(゚ᆸ゚)ღ

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For the first time in forever, I feel like myself. Like the person I am when I am not crying over my ex. My heart doesn’t hurt as much anymore. I don’t need to drown my thoughts with music. I went on a one-hour walk that didn’t end up in tears. I still carry the memories around, but there is no ghost anymore. I still miss her, but I don’t have this echo, this constant reminder of what life could have been if I hadn’t broken up with her.

It cannot not be magic. To wake up and suddenly know I’ve healed.

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Random

Okay, so this is just going to be stream of consciousness stuff. One of my very first attempts to remain anonymous and do this. Because honestly, I feel I have lost the love for writing. Earlier I was passionate about it. Earlier, I was passionate about a lot of things. Like, words, and poems, and sex, and music, and love, and riding a bicycle, and…I mean, to express myself meant a lot to me. I felt so much, so deeply, and a flock of birds always, always moved in me, as if they were thrashing their wings and calling my attention to something urgent — like the hands of my ex boyfriend, the moon, the wind, the parrot swaying on the branch. Everything was so volatile, almost always on the edge of bursting, like I couldn’t contain what I felt within me. It was like a flood. It claimed and claimed and claimed all my senses until I was stripped completely bare with nothing but the basic necessity to articulate what I felt until I felt like myself again. I am feeling so nostalgic about who I was, I can cry at this very moment. Truth be told, in many ways I am at a much better place, both, personally and professionally. BUT DAMN, WHERE IS THAT 18-YEAR OLD ME WHO WANTED TO PURGE HERSELF ON THE PAGE? Fuck this race to be perfect and articulate and eloquent. I don’t want my feelings to be that neat and trimmed 50th draft. I WANT MY FEELINGS TO BE FIRST DRAFTS. TO BE MESSY. TO BE BE BAD POEMS, SHITTY RHYMES. I WANT THEM TO BE RAW. TO BE REEKING WITH THE STENCH OF MY GUTS.

I was never much of a good writer but I knew that I “HAD” to write to breathe, to not drown, to exist. And now, all I have where words and poems used to be is a BIG FAT NOTHINGNESS. And what makes things worse is that I still fucking feel a lot. But all my feelings are mass-manufactured. That “NEED” to express in order to make it to the next hour and the hour after that without fucking ceasing to be has just somehow disappeared. Writing is no longer a need but a want. And that’s what scares me. I have stifled that self that just simply wanted to write stuff because she wanted to survive. I have taken her tongue, her aching fingers, the inside of her head, and the secret chamber of her heart and fed it to this merciless vulture called “ADULTING.” 

Enough of this shit!  Fuck self critique. Fuck polishing. Fuck the self-policing. Fuck the veneer. I want to write again. It was my religion. And know I am like a wailing street cat — religion-less, desperate, and fucking pissed off!

I WILL WRITE. AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN. 

I will not whore out my soul to some mind-numbed bastard who gets rich by the hour while I lose my passion by the minute. 

FUCK THIS SHIT! FUCK CORPORATE, FUCK THESE RICH BRATS WHO SUCK OUT EVERY LAST THING THAT MAKES US FEEL SOMETHING REAL. AND TENDER. AND ACHING. AND FIERY. 

 It doesn’t have to make sense for it to make sense, you know? It doesn’t. 

I just want to come home to my myself. To fucking belong to myself. Is that too much to ask for? 

Writing is the only bridge worth crossing. Writing is the only destination worth traveling. Writing is the only journey worth taking. 

In Italian they say ‘attraversiamo.’ It simply means, let’s cross over. So, I am gonna attraversiamo the fuck out of this phase. I swear on my mother-fucking life! 

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just finished the last class session for one of my courses. i hadn’t spoken at all the entire quarter in class and i don’t think the grading is heavy on class participation (we all have to do a presentation once so i technically spoke at least once) but idk. one of the ppl in my program (aka someone who started grad school when they were still technically in undergrad) was presenting today and he was pretty eloquent and i was like damn i don’t feel like i’m that eloquent or at least smooth-sounding. all the ppl in my program in the class participated sometimes in class and i just be sitting here mute but with no developed thoughts like others in the class have.

i mean i’m meh abt the class (economics of healthcare basically), like i am abt grad school in general, but i was just thinking abt my purpose of being there and in school as class ended and i was like wow. i really need to either get over this feeling of discontent and grind through my last 2 quarters of grad school or figure out who i am soon. i feel bad not participating and putting my full effort into the class and school (i literally have not watched the recorded lecture since the first month of the quarter. i was literally keeping up and then once i missed a lecture or 2 i was like fuck it and now i’m like 8-9 lectures behind) but also. idk my heart isn’t in it and it’s a shitty excuse bc i literally chose to be in grad school (a different decision from choosing to be in high school and undergrad i feel) but also my other thoughts of pursuing art i just don’t think it’s realistic. so i should just focus on my current field and do a good job bc after all there are artists out there who weren’t doing art originally but eventually transitioned into it and maybe that could be me too, but idk.

yet again i considered seeing a therapist so i could finally just unload on someone all my insecurities abt grad school and pursuing something i just don’t know about even if it doesn’t necessarily have to be the rest of my life. i really think i need to consider finding one for 2021 bc i really am not in a good position to keep going in a sustainable way. my biggest barrier is the effort i need to take to find one but i mean i’ve seen other ppl’s stories and everyone is like ‘yeah it’s normal and needed to try out different ones and it’ll be worth it in the end once you find your fit’ but … idk. i think it’s just me subconsciously still trying to convince myself i’m ok and don’t need a therapist even though consciously i’m of the belief that everyone should have a therapist regardless of the quality of your mental health. but why not me? anyway that’s a thing for therapy i suppose

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