I know I have to pack soon and I'm trying my best to limit myself to what I can and cannot bring. Thing is, comparatively, there isn't much to bring on my move. I think shoes are the only thing I don't need to shop for before leaving, which is good. The less the better.

Anyway, my point. I just kind of realized what a shithole my life is. Seriously, an absolute shit hole. The few pieces of clothing I have that are actually presentable are shabby and falling apart. I think its been eight months since I've even gotten a new shirt.

Not that I'm really up for caring about getting tons of new stuff, but I think it was four weeks ago that I pulled the underwire out of my favorite bra because it was getting old. I asked to get a new one and... hmm.. still nothing. Despite promises. I think I have five pairs of ear rings to my name, three of which are gaining rust. The chain for my favorite pendant has gone missing.

There hasn't been an actual photo of -me- since I was 17 years old. Is this what little my life is worth? I can't even look nice or feel comfortable without getting a severe guilt trip from Dax. I mean, what am I? Strap a collar around my neck and call me Twinkies, for God's sake. I think I should be thankful for my allergies to so many shampoos, soaps and detergeants, perfumes, lotions and body sprays, ect. Simply because its the only reason why I get a new bottle of lotion every year to a year and a half.. its the only reason why I can use my own deodorants, shampoos and soaps.. because I'm too allergic to the crap Dax uses.

Do you know I'm using the same perfume Dax got for free and gave to me when I was 17 years old? I think I have less than a teaspoon of it left in the bottle. I save it for special occasions. My body sprays are over two years old, maybe three. I've long since run out of lotion. I got a bottle for christmas from Dax's mother, but I'm allergic to it. My nausea medication, of which there are only two doses left, is older than Geni who is three years old now. I'm careful about using it. When I run out, who is to say I'll ever get a new bottle?

I'm going to ask Lasse to download and print out the forms for Visa application as soon as possible; I want to submit the papers the same week (if at all possible) I arrive. I want to start working, where the fuck I have any idea where I could get a job, I have no idea, but I have to try. Maybe I'm stupid. Maybe I'm a doormat. Maybe I'm shallow. Maybe there are a billion things wrong with me, but I'm a person..

..and for once in my life, I want to feel like one.