Progress

Ok. Three or four posts today… Thanks to my blog family who are actually reading through all the insanity!

SO I still feel like utter shit and depressed and all but I am making brave plans,

I decided to go to the Stone Roses gig on Thursday, just decided to go and fuck it, and I found cheap tickets last minute and I’m going, and my best friend is going and so are some other cool people so YEAH!

Progress.

I’m not saying I don’t feel like crying, I’m just saying I am able to look forward to something, and it’s only a LITTLE TINY BIT about him seeing the cool photos of me having a great time and looking skinny and missing me. It’s only a little bit about that.

Also the guy who took the amazing photos of us together on our last weekend together, he’s going to be there and I was talking to him and he said if I was there he’d love to take more pictures of me. Because I’m so photogenic, well he said that when we were at the party anyway. So there, Frenchie.

There will be lots of really flattering pictures of me having fun at a concert and then you will be sorry.

And come back and be with me again.

Groan…

But look it’s improvement, definitely. I actually am looking forward to this…

And photographer guy is pretty hot and cool…

NO!

BAD ABBY!

No weird, common aquaintance-incestuous revenge fucks! Remember the lovely… oh. Yeah. No more FUCKING people. Want looovee and affection!

Might try to masturbate about someone else though tonight, see if I can do that without weeping.

Now what am I going to wear to this concert in the rain so that I look hot and like I am having a good time and so he regrets leaving the best woman he is ever going to meet for a few years anyway?

I think I might wear that dress, the black and white one with the stripes. I wore it the first night we met and I was all bloated with beer and period, and I still looked pretty damn good…. Now I’m in fantastic, frail shape… We shall see… It’s my sexiest dress of the moment anyway. It’s cool. I’m in fantastic shape thanks to a month of intense bedroom gymnastics and three days on a banana, some oat cakes and a cup of miso soup and a half a bowl of pasta. I’ll just stick on a pair of boots and a shitload of makeup and oh my god, this is lots of progress.

And I’m starting to be able to think, fuck him.

Like really, fuck him.

Just a little bit. Just a small bit… I’d still jump… but…

but…

But it’s progress.

 

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