Most of the pain you’re dealing with are really just thoughts—ever think of that?

Hey loves

By now, you're probably used to my disappearing and reappearing acts.
I'm not apologizing for them.

I've been thinking a lot these past few months.
Since March or so, I've been feeling so empty, so vacant, like my life was a straight line and every single thing I did, whether it was concering my education or my personal life, I did it because I was expected to do it.
I was expected to study.
I was expected to go out with friends.
I was expected to be a good girl and not sleep with guys who had girlfriends.
I was expected not to trigger myself by stepping on a scale, or reading "dangerous" blog posts or books, or look at my diary from a few years ago.
I was expected not to starve myself and fill myself up with food like your regular Thanksgiving turkey.

Fullfilling other people's expectations, I realized, got really old, really fast.
I started to wonder where did this nothingness in me come from.
I thought I used to be a half mess who starved herself and killed herself with overachieving, but at least I felt something.
So I started reading my own thoughts from a few years ago, exactly one of the things a good girl that I tried to be, wasn't supposed to be doing.

Guess what?
I felt something.
Sadness for who I was and for who I became in the process of pleasing others.

So, in May I started pleasing myself.
I slept with I guy I loved since childhood, even though my own mother gasped and screamed and threathened, because he had a girlfriend.
It felt good.

In July I studied because I wanted the highest mark.
I got it.
It felt good.
I backtracked with my studies, by annuling all the marks that weren't a 10.
That felt good, too.
And I am studying right now, because I do not want to be average, I want to be the best.
Old skin and old habits feel good.

For the last few months I've been in limbo with my weight, maintaining, balancing around 140.
I wasn't satisfied with it, but I guess it was okay because it's been a long time since I was that low and that kept me at an okay with myself for a while.

You know that moment in cartoons when a person opens a book and their whole face lights up with some strange golden glow and it's that moment that you know the character realized something important?
Today, I opened an old copy of Wintergirls.
I found notes scribbled all over the margines and half the text highlighted.
I was afraid to do that because I was afraid of relapsing.
I am not afraid anymore.

This blog was my haven for a long time.
People on here were my support pillars.
That is why I call all of you loves, you know?

And now, I am apologizing, to myself and to you for being away for so long, because here is where I want to be.