Dear Prudence, open up your eyes, Dear Prudence, see the sunny skyes.

Merry fucking Christmas. Letting her down, again, broken promises, again. Battling a food disorder still, after promising one too many times that i'll stop. I want to say i did some research for hours last night, but i can't, 15 minutes top, i sure seem to give a shit about myself. I remember reading something about to keep, or in my case get some self esteem in the first place, people need to do things that they like, or are good at. I like dancing, so i spent about an hour dancing to upbeat music in my bra, feeling extremely sexy, followed by some drawing, which i like to think i'm good at. I like to think i'm helping myself, that this is a good step, but its happened so many times before, and yet here i am. Wallowing in this desperation. Begging for this to end, for it to be like flipping a switch, on and off. I'm trying to flip the switch, but i cant reach it. pathetic metaphor I know, but at the moment its all i've got, and i plan to hold on to it for as long as possible.