Somewhere

Increasingly nothing to say. I spend a lot of time indoors, looking at the rain outside, wishing it was summer again, wishing that our friendship group was still in tact. Last night I have a dream. Charlie apologises over text, says she can't believe what went down, she wants me back. In my head, I applaud myself for not responding to her messages. But then I wake up and realise - in that sobering, cold way - that I'm never going to see her again.

On Friday, I spend the night holed up in Caro's dorm room. She's like me, has a box balanced on top of her closet full of food. Silent assurance; fuel for those lonely, hungry times. We devour half of it, washed down with 8 shots of cheap vodka, diluted by litre upon litre of diet coke. We get outrageously pissed. Cigarettes out of her window, cover the smoke alarm. Wrap our backs in curtains. She kisses me, red smudging on her cigarettes, then onto my lips. We talk about everything. Women, men. Weight. Summer, each other.

Alfie's back for Easter break tomorrow. I don't know how I feel about this. I have days and nights where he's all I think about, then others where he's the furthest from my mind. Sometimes, I just think he's shit. Another shithead arsehole guy, wanting wanting wanting, taking taking taking. Known a few too many of those. Then othertimes, my whole body begs to be held by him, comforted, reassured, just for a moment. I yearn to be embraced, completed by someone else. I wish to explore everything; I'm curious, like an innocent, and I want to know. What all the fuss is about, what I've been missing out on. I wonder if it'll be the same for me. Perhaps, I'm just meant to be different.

I'll look at myself, and think, I could be improved. Maybe I don't deserve to be held. Then I catch myself smiling, glimpse a candid reflection of some actual expression of my own joy, and I think, I'm just a human. I'm just a girl. There's nothing wrong with me. I spend approximately 7 hours a day thinking about food, and how I shouldn't be eating it; about myself, and how I should be better. That's a lot of time. When I see myself laugh from the outside, totally unwarranted, I think that I must be pure. Not this messy, diabolical thing I consider myself to be half the time. Evil things don't have an open heart.

I think that things might get better. I think one day I'll feel alright in my own skin. I won't have this crippling low self-confidence, nor this extreme vanity or high level of self-indulgence, forever. I hope. But I'll be me forever. It's about bloody time I got comfortable being just that. Maybe then, I'll start to treat myself more kindly. They say your body's your temple, not your burden. I'd like to think this way. It'll take some time, but eventually, I'd like to get there. I'd like to eat, think, behave purely. Because somewhere, deep down, I know I deserve that. Somewhere. Somewhere. Somewhere.