Luke has gone out tonight to find some fresh meat to bring home to me (LOL feeding the cub...) but now that he's left, I'm suddenly way too tired to fuck around. *yawn* I'll take a nap. I doubt he'll be home before midnight.
God, my skin is doing SO much better these days!!!! I'm so happy with it. I hope it lasts. Maybe it's because I've been too busy to pick at the shit on my legs.
Speaking of busy... I'm trying to find a job. It's scary. I should probably work on my resume first... I just... don't think there's any reason why anybody would want to hire me. I'm going to go to a job agency because there's no way I can put a positive spin on leaving work due to mental illness or working as a prostitute look good for me. "Why did you leave your last job?" "Oh I decided I needed to dedicate more time to the greater goal of losing weight. Also I couldn't stand for more than a couple of hours at a time."
The skin-picking thing is obviously anxiety-related. As I was writing the second half of that last paragraph, I began picking the fuck out of my legs. There's this scab that is soooo nearly healed and I'm trying like fuck to lift it up again. Because 3^2mm chunks of skin missing from my thigh is attractive.
God. I would die if anybody I knew in real life found my diary. 
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