where to start

I might have a new reader. It might be you. And so I want to be interesting and eloquent and witty and wise.

I want you to like me. I want to appear as if I think about things other than this chronicle of unanswered messages. But I think that would be a lie. It kind of is all I think about. Also, yarn. Dating and yarn. Dating and yarn and the song Rabbit Heart, by Florence + the Machine, which has a very rousing chorus that sounds like groove is the love and groove is the life, but according to the lyrics is saying who is the lamb and who is the knife, and if you listen closely, is really saying who is the llama, who is the knife. And since llamas make yarn (with my help), I suppose I'm back to just dating and yarn again. And weight loss, and shoes, and oh my god I think that if I performed "female" any harder on this blog I might turn the entire internet pink.

I am trying to write a video essay about the dating project, not just about the dating this time, but the project as a whole, the spreadsheet and the graphs, and the things I have learned, and the things I haven't learned, but I don't know where to start. I don't know what the story is yet.

problem

If I love myself just the way I am, then there is no need to make changes. If I want to be someone who improves myself, then I have to not-love some aspects of myself. At least, I have to think that I will love the change even better. The harder the change, the bigger the difference needs to be between how I feel about what I am and how I feel about what I could be. The desire has to match the difficulty.

Losing weight is really, really, hard. And the only way I can do it is if the gap between how much I like what I am and how much I like what I could be is really, really, big. And the only way to widen that gap enough is to hate what I am, to make it so I have to change. Because if there is any other acceptable option, I'd take it. And that's a problem.

3:36pm

It's 3:36pm and I can't eat again until 6. I chew on the fleshy part of my right index finger between the knuckle and the first joint. I pull at my hair. I can't concentrate. It's August 3rd and I've been hungry since June.

104

103

101 & 102

Things with Devin did not go well. They went very embarrassingly not well. Looking at other people, writing other people, helps me stop dwelling. I'm still feeling pretty doomed and unkissable. But at least now he is not the one hope that is failing, see, there are other maybe-hopes over there...

more charts

I do not have internet at home. There's not much else to do.