I wrote Dylan a letter and gave it to him. I wrote the letter last night, and had to rewrite it a few times to make sure it looked right, it wasn't too long, and that it wasn't passive aggressive or even manipulative. I told him I had a crush on him, but that it was only because I'm a starry eyed person. I told him I liked him mostly because he was nice to me, exceptionally attractive, but also because I knew very little about him, so my mind felt entitled to make me think he had everything I need.

I never told him I was going to give him the note, but he said thank you when I gave it to him. Earlier today, I decided it would be a good idea to feign a conversion disorder that left me unable to talk. Unfortunately for that fantasy, he asked me if I needed him to open the building when he first saw me and I answered. I feel control when I dissent silently. I spoke so easily because I feel no control in the relationship. I tend to be quiet around people I feel secure with. I like the allure of silence. What a revelation!

I'm going to chill on the pot for a while. I became aware of a telepathic connection between my reflection and me and that was too much. It was really just me being more aware of everything I say to myself, but still.

Anyway, Dylan went into the cafeteria and I smoked another cigarette and fantasized about how nervous I was, and if I could get nervous enough to puke and if I did, how I could do it glamorously. Also, as a note, when I was stoned on Saturday night, I got in the shower and started purging myself because I encourage the archetype of beautiful disaster. When I was talking to my reflection, she told me to cut my face with a razor so I could get concern. I was able to abstain from that. I am really intrigued by all these dark impulses! It's like, I know I always have these ideas, but marijuana ups their dopamine value so you actually find yourself considering these things as if they were legitimate ideas.

I went all weekend without eating anything. I got some liquid calories but still. I love how tragic that is. I'm proud of myself because I don't get the munchies when I'm high. I felt my collar bones today for the first time in a while, and they feel almost dislocated they're so prominent. This might sound sinister, but I'm happy! I'm not anorexic because I have one meal a day, and I see myself as thin. I do sometimes have to take a step back and look at my whole body so I don't enlarge my stomach with my eyes, but I don't see myself as "fat". I worry other people do.

I saw Dylan in the cafeteria and tried to tell him to keep the note a secret, but he had his music in. I called him and left a message. Now it's time to let go. He knows how I feel, whatever potential there is has to arise. Never die for someone who doesn't have a fever for you.

Yesterday I was particularly upset about Dylan. I felt like I was a robot. I didn't care about anything except being sad. I decided it wasn't best to be alone for these feelings, so I went to the student union but didn't talk to anyone. I did do some reading. I then came back home and decided to pick a specific kind of guy to like that Dylan isn't a part of. I chose Arabs. Then I was like,"Why Arabs?"

I love Arab psychiatrists. They're my favorite. But on a more personal level, last semester I had a pseudo-attempt. My RA saw the cut and told someone about it, but other than that no one said anything about the huge gash on my arm. Then there was, let's call him Gio. When he saw it, he asked what happened and I told him.

"Why did you do that!? Don't do that! If you did that, I would come to the afterlife and kill you again."

and that was the sweetest thing anyone's said to me in a long time. I sent Gio a text thanking him for that, because I never told him how I appreciated it, and now he goes to school elsewhere, and he responded and we had a very positive conversation that lifted my mood up a ton. He called me buddy when he said good night to me. That's so cute and really warms my heart! I love being called buddy by guys, or bud, or when men say "that a boy" to me. I guess that has to do with my desire to be validated as a male. Notice above how my reflection used a female voice? My object relations are almost entirely female. I thank college for fixing me in that way.

For my electronic music class, I'm composing a song called "Piano Lessons (Histrionism)". It is the sound of a little girl practicing piano in a very sweet, upbeat arpeggio incessantly. In the undertones is a very menacing, growling noise that plays discordantly and sporadically with the melody. Sometimes, the two match up and the melody becomes faster and angrier before ceasing and starting again from the beginning. Maybe I'll find a way to share it!