Well, everyone's sad.

Things that have happened since I returned:

• I went running at 8:03 this morning because (1)I feel fat and (2)I can't sleep.
• My mother told me I am no longer beautiful. But that there are things I can do to make me beautiful again. She didn't understand why I was upset.
• I found the kick ass mug that I spent like 3 hours making for my mom for Christmas = holding her Sharpies in the far back on the top shelf of a random cupboard. Lovely.
• Stepped on the scale and I now weigh 135. Fucking stellar. I'm 5'7" and I was about 129/130 until finals week happened.
• The first thing my dad said when I returned, in typical fashion for my family, was "Hey Saman-...oh god, what have you done to your nose?" And then gave me a half-assed hug.
• Mohammad completely blew us off yesterday. Rad! Excuse: He simply had to see the people he sees literally every day. James was right in his predictions; for shame, Memali. "Je t'aime," my ass.
• I watched "Girl, Interrupted" for the first time in a few years and remembered why I don't watch it anymore.

I'm going to start exercising consistently again. Here's what I look like when I weigh more or less, by the way. I just hate gaining weight in my face and stomach. And I wish that when I explained my desire to lose weight, people didn't auto-assume it was inflicted on me by the media. I just don't like how I look when I am >127 or so. That is still a healthy weight, so fuck off.

There have, of course, been good things. I went to dinner with Ryan & Papa Harvey on Saturday, met up with Manda, Eddie, Kari, and James for a bonfire with blueberry beer that night, watched the Lost finale with Ry, Papa Harvey, & Jeani on Sunday, hung out on Westcott for a minute then smoked hookah at Manda's with her, Eddie, Kari, & James, and went to Friendly's with those same folks tonight. And Cinnamon + the cat have been very cuddly with me.

I am also starting my own website. My mom's great with website design, but I'm not exactly looking for a ton of reasons to be around her right now. She either cries because she's worried about me (which makes me feel terrible and guilty but I end up just hugging her and reassuring her) or discusses what's wrong with how I am (which makes me just feel terrible).

If I am the sum of my parts, then who am I? Because these shambles don't seem to be amounting to much when I look at them in their natural state, in pieces.