Bad Start to a Week

I woke up this morning with the fading memories of my dreams. It’s finally starting to leave me now but it did seem too real at first. Instead of waking up with MP, it was Franco. We had a lengthy conversation in which began in bed, then he put me in a car, drove me to an unfamiliar place and made me call his sister who gave me shit for hurting him. Ha.

When I did actually wake up I laid stock still for a couple minutes until MP spoke. I was immediately thankful he did because I wasn’t yet awake enough to realize he wasn’t the man in my dreams.

On to another topic: I feel fugly. I’m not one to whinge when I’m having a bad day, but this isn’t just a bad day it’s been a few weeks. My self-esteem is lingering on a precariously thin edge. I can’t look at myself in the mirror without being completely unimpressed; and when I look down I see nothing but…fat. My skin is revolting against me (this first time since I was 15 or 16) and I can only see bags under my eyes.

When MP tells me I am beautiful it feels like a lie. In no way am I doubting his sincerity, maybe he does see that. I don’t.

I think it’s time to hit up a gym regularly. Maybe that’ll help.

Is all this a leftover from Franco? Are my insecurities strengthening as I remember more and more of the hate?

Today, I swear I will do it today, I am going to call another place for therapy. I can’t put it off anymore because I know I am not doing myself any favours.