Dream; bacon; father; drunk.

139 lbs this morning with almost no feasibility of me being there or lower tomorrow morning. Today had no potential to be good. It sucked from the offset. Another bad night of sporadic sleep intervals and tripped out dreams. I dreamt that I was sent away to this weird hospital camp thing and had to pee in a shower/sewer because there were no bathrooms, then all my friends tricked me into believing Alfie was dead - I saw him, lying face down in a pile of dirt - and I was utterly distraught. I was sobbing for hours and hours into my knees. Then in my dream I felt someone tap me on the shoulder and I spun around, and Alfie was standing right there. I didn't understand. So he brought me away from the crowd of my so-called friends, who had been 'consoling' me, and explained to me that it had been a test. I said that when I'd been convinced he was dead, I felt more terrible that I ever thought I would have done, and that I realised how deeply I cared about him. He finally prompted me to admit that I was in love with him.

When I woke up from the dream, I had those three strange, alien words on my lips - I love you - and my whole body ached from tossing and turning. It was sore enough that I almost believed I'd got out of bed and run a marathon during the night. Then I had this rather disturbing interlude of considering whether I might really love this guy. After all, he checks in with me every day. He tells me he's worried about me and that he cares for me deeply despite not having known me long at all.
He may just be the only pure thing in my life. 

I put it down to post-dream hysteria and made myself a soy milkshake, and a bacon sandwich. By four o'clock I'd got no work done and my dad called me up, pretty much with no other intention than to make me feel bad. Up until now he has seemed to understand everything that's been going on with me, but I guess that's him all over. Suddenly he turns. I cried into my knees for forty minutes like I had done in my dream and then I got drunk, in my own bedroom, and swallowed three allergy pills, gulpgulpgulp. I need the proper stuff.

My mum got home later and I poured out all my sorrows to her and had two more drinks. She also brought home these sweet little things... I can't remember what they're called for the life of me, but they're basically little crunchy cheesy corn snacks, shaped like fish. So because I was drunk I poured a ton of them into my salad and mixed it all and engulfed it like some deranged starved maniac. I'm amazed she didn't realise how drunk I was. Maybe I wasn't that drunk. Maybe I just need to get out more.