14.8.11

I have been upset with my weight for two months now.
And I have been trying to exercise it off.
I vomit for two days.
And here I am.
Where I want to be.

How fucking annoying!





Why are the bad things so easy?


I dreamt that I was dangling out of Tom's car.
Because they had no space due to everyone else.
And we were driving down the highway.
And Tom makes a sharp turn to pull into the driveway.
I fall off, and cars swerved to avoid hitting me.
And one stops dead in front of my face.
And I was there.
I felt it all.
But I wasn't afraid.
I knew nothing would happen.


I seem to have this luck where I get away with anything.
And I do things sloppily.
Such as stealing.

However, it may be because I am stealing candy most of the time.


No, it can not be that.


The people in Safeway who make sandwiches for me everyday must know.
They look at me like they do.
Or maybe they just wonder how I can eat so many sandwiches.



I don't exactly want to be crazy thin.
I just want to be in shape.
So though I may be partially throwing up,
I must still eat and make sure I get protein.
And obviously continue going to the gym.





God damnit, I just want to find out if he's going to leave me for Boston already.











I cleaned this man's house.
His name is Swami.
He asked me what I like to do, and I told him photography.
It turns out that he was a photo journalist and worked for movie sets such as Drug Wars.
The FDA then had him be a photographer for their drug busts.
And he showed me some of his photos.
I considered some of them over edited.
And then he asks if he can take a picture of me.
I allow him. 
And next thing I fucking know, there he goes.
He tells me that my stance is elegant and asks if I model.
And this is how I know that he is creeping on me.
Because I do not have to proper body or height of a model.
He's just,
Doing that dumb ass cliche' thing.
And he continues on to aks to see my stomach.
Takes the initiative to pull my shirt up for me.
And he tries to roll down my pants and notices that I'm not wearing underwear. 
I tell him that I have boundaries.
And he asks me if I'm shy.
No, I have boundaries god damnit.
He tries to pull my shirt up, and once I realize that he's trying to pull it up further, I take hold of my shirt, back off, and reiterate that I have god damn boundaries.
However, I have not even started to clean his house yet.
He lets me play with his expensive camera, and I take a few pictures.
He lets me edit them on his computer, but continues to sit in the office chair.
Therefore, I have to stand in front of him, and he does not give me enough space, 
and he finds it appropriate to touch my butt to get my attention.








I feel gross.
And Bryan tells me it's my fault it happened.

No comments:

Post a Comment