It’s 5:29 and I’ve been up since midnight, I think. I don’t think they gave me seroquel last night. There’s no way I only got three hours of sleep if I took my sleep meds. I tried to go back to sleep until 4am and then I gave up. I did some online shopping/browsing. Lots of cute tops, but I haven’t bought any yet. I gotta let the stuff I got this week make it’s way here before I order more.
How am I feeling? Fucking confused. Why? Because WHY IN THE MOTHER FUCK DID I WAKE UP AT MIDNIGHT? Now I’m going to be tired all day and I worry the anxiety is going to really kick in hard. Also, my stomach hurts and they won’t give me any promethazine for some reason. It’s definitely been twelve hours, I think. I really don’t know. I’m not responsible enough to keep up with my own meds, that’s why I’m in the fucking hospital. I think this step down bullshit is hitting me much harder than I realized. I guess if they let me stay in the apartments here, it might be manageable, but if I have to go home, especially every night, I’ll never make it.
Katy Perry inspires me to wake, sing and dance. It’s a KP morning. I don’t want to sit and write right now, I want to dance down the hallway. It feels like I’m being strangled and held down. It’s also very conflicting, because every fucking IOP, therapist etc. has told me to exercise more. Miriam seemed really concerned about the amount of exercise I wasn’t getting. I’m not even doing a ton of pacing. Just 10-50 minutes at a time. It’s really more about counting tiles and memorizing the patterns in the carpet tiles. It gives me something to occupy my brain, which is running wild. How am I feeling? Exhausted, but anxious as fuck. And I keep passing Polly’s room, but their name tag is gone. Serious question though, how is John Mayer still a thing and how do I remove him from the KP playlist. His song sucks. It just does, it’s boring and the melody gives me a headache. The country crossover song, that I don’t the name of and no idea who the artist is, it’s alright. I’m not a fan of country music, no secret there. Growing up in Nashville made me hate it. I think it was the country music takeover of KDF, I’m still angry about that. April 1, 199X, but it sucked. It doesn’t matter I guess, radio all sucks because it’s all Clear Channel and that company sucks and plays the same 10 songs on repeat for each genre.
I didn’t ask to wake up this early and I’m not a morning person. In fact, I prefer staying up late. And if I do have to wake up this early, I don’t want to sit and work or journal. I want to take my meds, drink my caffeine and take my shower and get ready. I do miss my mornings and getting up and dressed and putting on makeup. I really like doing my makeup. I don’t like doing it here. If I put on more than just a touch, I think that’s faux pas or something. None of the girls do full face makeup, except Betty. Oh, Betty. And she wants to help me. And it’s sweet, but, “Dear Betty, it wouldn’t look like shit if I wasn’t putting it on in front of every girl in the unit. I feel like I need to hurry and get it on and move out of the way. There are five mirrors and 20 girls. You tell me how that’s supposed to go. I have moved my shower to 6:30 am instead of 7am. For some reason it actually works out better. I get done in Splataaah and there’s no one at the med window. It’s weird. And then as we get close to 7:45am and breakfast, there’s another mad rush. Plus, this way I’m not pissing anyone off. Raine, talking to you girlie. She was so annoyed that I beat her to the med window every morning. Problem solved, you kids knock yourselves out. The only problem with 6:30 showers is that we’re supposed to pee in a cup, change into a gown, get weighed, and get in the shower and be done by 6:45, which is impossible, especially when they open Splataaaah either right at 6:30 or a few minutes after. And lately, the nurse has been taking forever to bring the scale into the weight room. So, whoever signs up under me ends up getting the shower at 6:50-6:55 and that throws the whole morning off. But it’s not my fault. It’s the lazy BHTs taking their fucking time getting spa open. Oh, one other thing, i have to check out my razor from nursing and nursing is particularly defensive about opening the med window until 6:45 am. So I have to knock, wait for them to tell me to wait, and yell back (but not aggressively), “Could I just have my razor, please?” Then they recognize my voice and gladly help. But it’s a whole thing and it drives me a little crazy. I don’t really understand why razors can’t just be kept in sharps. It’s weird. I get if SH is super high or there is continued evidence of SH. I just don’t get it. But, rules are rules, I guess.
I got scolded by my team yesterday for pacing. Well you know what, MY ANXIETY IS NOT UNDER CONTROL. I’m still taking bennies every day. I’m pretty sure that’s not good. The Lexapro might be helping with depression. Actually, I think it absolutely is. But it’s not helping with anxiety. I still have rapid fire thoughts. The only way I can manage them is by journaling or moving. I’ll just tell you now, I like the journaling thing. But it can’t be my only coping method. And when I get home, I’m going to start running again. On the bright side, it will almost certainly ENCOURAGE my appetite, because that’s what working out does. This zero movement shit is just such shit. The other thing is that I just get bored. And dancing and moving in the morning is how I like to wake up. I like singing to, but I’ll spare the unit my unrehearsed KP. They don’t deserve that. Juniper has to deal with it, she’s my daughter. Daughters are subjected to their parent’s singing, it’s sort of a right of passage I think.
The dinner question for tonight was picked by Katy and I love it. Top 3 albums that you can’t live without. Geez, is that even a question:
- Radiohead – Ok Computer
- Nirvana – Nevermind
- Beatles – Abbey Road
- Radiohead – In Rainbows
You can’t have just three and #1 and #4 are pretty much interchangeable, just depending on my mood. I can never decide which one is better. Every time I do the Radiohead discography playlist, I hear OK Computer and say, “Oh, it’s definitely OK Computer” until I get to In Rainbows, at which point I’m like, “How could I say that, It’s obviously In Rainbows.” It’s kind of a mind fuck. In Rainbows is so much more complex, but the flow of OK Computer is amazing. Like, perfect, amazing. That’s part of the reason Abbey Road makes the top 3. I mean, the white album has so many classic Beatles songs, but it’s eclectic. They were pretty much broken up as a band at that point, so when they came back together to record Abbey Road, it had this amazing flow, probably the inspiration for thousands of other popular albums. You can’t have #1 or #2 if you don’t have #3. It’s just a fact. Kurt said as much in multiple interviews. And Thom rambles on about the Pixies, but there would be no Pixies if there were not Beatles. It’s really just a natural order of things.
Awwwww. So sad, I’m not nearly hipster enough, clearly. Karma is a bitch. It’s coming for you O’Flynn. It’s going to catch your ass faster than you can blink. I can’t think about that now. It’s too much. Sit with sad feelings? Maybe later. I don’t have the spoons today. At least not yet. It’s 6:23am. I can’t tell if they just opened Splataaah or if it’s just Abigail with her 1:1. My stomach is so pissed off this morning. What the fuck? How am I feeling? Nauseated. Maybe it’s the anxiety or lack of sleep. I just feel bleeeeh. Maybe it was that vanilla wafer that hit the floor. 5 second rule might not apply in a hospital setting. I hope I don’t get sick again. That would definitely set me back, maybe 2 weeks. Actually, 4 weeks is what I see as a reasonable step down period. I just want to do the steps. I want to Phase II and Phase III. I want to work all the way through the program. And I’m just not ready to leave the security of these walls. These walls keep the bad stuff out. They are my protection, my safety. I haven’t felt this safe in years. I mean even at APN, if I had called Marco, he could have pulled right up to the cones and handed me drugs. Not that I wanted to get high at APN. 1) I didn’t want to get high any more and 2) They would have spotted it immediately and I would have been kicked out of the program. And it was a fun program. ERC isn’t really fun, at least not like that. We don’t have a gym or a spa. The food is straight up hospital food. But, it’s not clicky here. I mean, sure, you have kind of groups that have been in the weeds together. We’ve laughed together, cried together, hugged each other and been vulnerable around each other. So naturally, we’re going to feel close to certain groups. I guess maybe that’s part of the safety, too. It’s more than just the walls. It’s knowing that the people around me aren’t judging. It’s knowing that we take up for each other.
Abigail is leaving for ACUTE. I’m so worried about her. Going to ACUTE means her labs probably don’t look great. She’s been in a wheelchair for weeks now and I rarely see her eat very much.I think she wants to get better. This illness is so fucked up. Even when you decide you’re ready to get better, there are so many barriers. It’s a mental illness that affects both your body and your brain. It’s a mental illness that kills, as Danielle pointed out to me in an email, before she decided she hates me. I don’t want anything bad to happen to any of my peers here. I love them, they are all such special people. Abigail has my sense of humor, I think I’ve mentioned before. We joke about every day being the same. So every night, one of us says, “are you ready tomorrow, its XXXXX” , and the other responds, “so ready.” And usually someone asks, “What’s happening tomorrow?” and we reply, “the same thing that happens every day.” Except, today is different because my friend is leaving. Abigail is so smart, she acts like she isn’t, but she’s obviously brilliant. She reads more than any person I’ve ever met and apparently, she’s dyslexic, which makes it that much more incredible. She’s from Seattle (Ballard), and knows all my favorite old haunts from when I lived there. Her Mom has been here nearly every day to support her. I want recovery for her. I want to see her get better and thrive. I guess that’s part of the treatment process. She’s been here to wake me up to go to meals, one day she had to wake me up twice. She has a big heart and I really care about her.
It reminds me of Raine, too. She’s been here almost as long as me now and she’s making slow progress. But she has been adamant since day one that she doesn’t want to be here and she doesn’t want to recover. Her reasoning, she’s been through this before and it didn’t work and she doesn’t think it will work this time. But I want it to work for her. She’s really smart and I love her brutal honesty about life. It’s not all roses and rainbows. She’s very realistic, albeit at times, maybe a little cynical. And she definitely was a little cranky with me for being 2nd in the med line every day. I haven’t told her, but she’s the reason I started taking early showers and doing med line 2nd. Now she’s usually at least one person ahead of me. She also rolls her eyes at me less. This goes back to girl girl dynamics. She loves to paint. She’s on her 4th paint by number project and they all have turned out really amazing. She swears she doesn’t want to recover, but she LOVES her family and they are the ones that made her come. So right now, I think she’s kind of where I am, white-knuckling it. She’s starting to eat more and I’m proud of her. She and Abigail are fun in the Cafe when we play global and Raine specifically can name so many fucking countries and knows where they are on the map. She’s exceptionally smart, like a lot of the girls here. She’s also checked on me when I wasn’t doing well and woke me up a few times to go to a meal or snack. She said that she doesn’t want recovery for herself, but she doesn’t want to derail anyone’s progress. I believe her, but I also see her trying. She comes to every group. She participates most days. She comes to every meal and tries to eat a little something, even if she isn’t completing the full meal. I want recovery for her. I want her to thrive and have a long life.
I guess that this is part of the process and why we do this in a group setting. We can see in others what we can’t see in ourselves, yet. The PHP letters talked about this amazing JOY that’s supposed to happen when you’re in recovery. Many of us said the same thing, “where is this magical joy and when does it magically appear.” And the thing is, I still can’t see it for myself. I still feel broken and beaten. But yesterday when Polly left, I saw it in them. They were pretty upbeat most days, except when they had a meltdown. But yesterday was a different type of upbeat. They said they want to be normal. Polly knows that neurodivergent people won’t ever be normal in the sense that will think and act like most people. But we do have an opportunity to live our lives like normal people do. We can have jobs. We can find happiness. We don’t have to be weighed down by the burden of our eating disorder. We don’t have to be scared of certain foods. We don’t have to let our body image control us. That’s the thing about eating disorders and something I have to accept. By trying to control my body, my eating disorder controls me. If I can just accept this radical truth, my thinking might become “green light” thinking, instead of “yellow light” thinking.
But to get there, there’s a great deal of radical acceptance that I must go through and I feel so defeated by my thoughts. I have to sit through the pain, right? Well, I’m not ready for more radical acceptance quite yet. I want to be, I think. But I’m just not there. Radical acceptance of Danielle being the person that she is was enough for the month. To radically accept recovery for myself, I would have to accept things that I’m just not willing to accept, yet. I’ll get there eventually, but this process is slow. I’m so scared about going to PHP, because I don’t think I’m recovery minded enough to do this on my own. I will skip meals and snacks. It will start as occasional, but as pain builds and pressures consume me, I will find myself in the exact same position that I was before. I’m not ready for that. I don’t think I am. Why is my team so sure of themselves? Why do I only have to show consistent eating for 3 days. Why do I only need to eat PB&J and grilled cheese? No one else is on the write only meal plan. Even Courtney said we’d work on more challenging meals. Guess what, ordering in is not going to make me want to eat more. Actually, thinking about greasy, fried foods, or big meals still makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t ever want to eat like that again. I don’t want to gain a bunch of weight. I don’t want to lose my figure. And I don’t want to eat. I’m white-knuckling. I’m doing this because the other option is they take away my meds and give me a feeding tube. Then I really have no autonomy. I sound like a broken record, but I do not trust my team. They’ve given me no reason to trust them. They are working against me. There’s no convincing me. I have to self advocate, I guess. No one else is going to do it for me.
What are my core values? Juniper. Why? She’s my daughter and I love her and only I can truly care for her and raise her the way I want her to be cared for and raised. She’s my Bee and I’m hers. Something that makes Tuesday special is I get to see her today, for one hour. I only get one hour a week and I truly cherish it. It’s the best hour of the whole week. It typically involves her falling asleep on my shoulder and if I can get Susan and Mom to let me relax, I will take a nap, too. It makes it feel like home in the “welcome room.” It’s like we’re both able to just relax and forget about this whole separation business. Juniper is my family and I’m hers. We need each other and I promised her I would take care of her as long as she wants me to do so. We’re going to own our house, our car and our van. It’s going to be Juniper and me again, soon. That’s my core value, taking care of my little Bee. It gives me purpose. She’s the reason I’m still alive, that suicide was never really an escape plan. I couldn’t leave her to Danielle. Danielle wouldn’t take care of her. She couldn’t. She couldn’t manage a fucking weekend, let alone the rest of her life. She’s too selfish. Plus, Danielle is having health problems. How severe? I don’t know. But her kidneys aren’t doing what they are supposed to be doing. She’s drinking again, and her liver isn’t super happy about that.
Meeting with Nancy instead of Dr. Parsley this week. She’s very sweet, but I don’t really care to meet with her alone. For one, if she makes changes to my meds, she usually puts them in the computer wrong, which sucks. But two, she’s an NP, not a Dr. As much as I make fun of Drs. and their attitudes, it’s also nice to have someone with an extra level of education and insight. Dr. Parsley is definitely a Dr. But I wanted to hear thoughts on why I didn’t sleep last night. Is that a side effect of Lexapro? I don’t know. Nancy thinks it is just a disturbance on the unit and I will say, multiple people I talked to this morning said they were up and down all night.
I’m going to have to advocate hard during rounds if I want a different step down schedule. I think 3-4 weeks would make me feel a lot more comfortable about stepping down. Although, I think Kirsi, Ella, Jake and Rose will all be stepping down soon, too. I should have been sitting at the table with them and Polly the last few weeks. That would have made sense. But the safety aspect of things, I just don’t feel safe, still. I don’t feel like I’m going to be safe in the world. I don’t think staying at home during PHP is a good idea either. Nancy says, “yes, stay at home and do family sessions with Mom, so she knows how to support.” Ya’ll don’t know my mother. She’s somewhat aloof when it comes to medical things. She’s been supportive while I’m here, but there are going to be challenges, especially around Brandon and my gender identity. I can’t tell if she’s really supportive or if she’s just faking it. I also think having the support of other people in my pod would be helpful. I’m nervous about stepping down and even more nervous about going home. Plus, going home, I’m going to want to smoke weed. I don’t know how they will treat that. I’m an adult, it’s legal. I should be allowed, but rules are rules. And being back home, I’ll definitely want to smoke weed. I’ll definitely want to exercise. I will 100% body check. I will 100% weigh-in multiple times a day. I can’t just stop these things. That’s why I’m not ready. I’m still too, yellow light thinking to be at home. I’m not going to eat right at home. And mom won’t hold me accountable, she doesn’t know how to do it. Even if we do therapy, it’s not like she’ll listen to what they say. It’s just how she is. Rules don’t apply. She doesn’t get it and she never will.
Oh fuck, here we go. Snack time and I already feel bad about the shake they are going to make me drink. I don’t want a shake. I don’t want a snack. I don’t want to go to cafe. I don’t want to play games and I don’t want to talk. I want to hide under a blanket the rest of the morning and skip lunch, too. I want to recover, but I don’t want the results of recovery. I’m doing the steps, but only because I have no choice. It’s 10:11 am. The anxiety is coming, I’m sure. I want to move around. I want to sing and dance. I want to memorize tiles. All I have is time. What am I going to do when I get home and I can pace? I can skip snacks and meals. I can exercise as much as I want. I’m not ready for this and going home is a really bad, bad idea. Stepping down is a bad idea. I’m just starting to accept treatment and they are kicking me to the curb. I don’t trust myself and I don’t trust my team. I don’t trust anyone. I trust Juniper and I know she wants me to be home. How am I even supposed to get here? We only have one car now. Danielle took my car. And they need the X3 to cart Juniper around. Fuck. There are so many moving pieces. My life is so much more complicated than they realize. I’m not ready for this, I’m not ready at all. They are setting me up for failure. I’m going to have to quit because there isn’t going to be a way for me to do this. FUCK! If the X3 was paid for, I’d go buy a Porsche. Just because I know it would piss Danielle the fuck off. Enjoy your crust punk lifestyle, bitch.
The times in between meals are sometimes the worst. I dread going, but I want to get it over with and move on with the day. The sooner we get our snack, the sooner we can eat lunch, the sooner we can do these groups, the sooner we finish all meals and snacks and the sooner I get to go to bed. I enjoy waking up and getting ready and I enjoy going to bed. Everything in between is just some sort of forced clusterfuck that I despise. What am I feeling? Annoyed. Why? My team isn’t hearing me. I don’t feel like I have any more say in my treatment. I don’t feel like we’re on the same page and I don’t think they understand me, at all. If they did, they’d understand how broken I still am and they wouldn’t be pushing me out the door.
And while we’re on the subject of being pissed off, menu planning is the worst shit. I don’t like any of the choices, and it just sucks picking out food. I don’t want to eat, remember? That isn’t recovery focused thinking. I need to change my attitude, but I’m not ready. I’m not ready to leave and I’m not ready to go home. I definitely do not want to go home. FUCK! YOU ARE NOT HEARING ME! Team my fucking ass… I am scared. I am scared of leaving this place and I’m definitely scared to go home. Danielle could show up at any time or try to sick the cops on me or god only knows what else her demented sick brain has come up with. I do not want to leave, I know that. I know it’s not safe, I AM NOT SAFE AT HOME. I will never be safe there. She’s evil and she’s out to get me. She wants to hurt me. Fuck. I’m back in that mindset. I saw Diane’s email and I’m hurting, I’m scared. What is that bitch up to. What kind of maneuver are they going to pull? Her lawyer is afraid to talk to mine? I don’t understand and I’m terrified of these people. They are liars and manipulators. They are going to try to cheat to win. I am not safe. I AM NOT SAFE. This is why my therapist wanted me to go to a shelter and file a no contact order. She was the one that got just how dangerous Danielle is. She wanted to protect me. She tried to protect me. If I leave here, I’m not safe. I can’t go. I won’t. Please, please, please don’t make me leave and go home. I’m not ready. Please. Please. Please. Don’t make me go home. I’m already relapsing in my head. I can’t be at home. I can’t do it. It isn’t safe. I’m scared, for fuck’s sake, I am terrified. I’m going to write them a letter. I’m going to make sure that I’m heard by giving them all a copy of the letter and signing/dating each one.
The letter reads:
May 12, 2026
Dear Team:
I’m writing this letter because it’s easier for me to articulate my thoughts and concerns in writing than speaking most of the time. Yesterday, 05/11/26, I was presented with a step down plan from Courtney and Alana and I have grave concerns about the timeline presented as well as the challenges associated with a step down this quickly. I tried to bring these things up and don’t feel like I was heard. So let me be as clear as possible.
I do not feel like stepping down to PHP in two weeks is a realistic timeline for me. I realize that I will continue to get care in PHP, similar to what I get here. However, I will lose the safety of the hospital setting that is vital to my recovery. I am deathly afraid of Danielle, as I’ve said over and over. If I am to remain recovery focused, I must first have safety.
Furthermore, while I do feel like I am making progress, I am not in a recovery mindset yet. It’s not that I don’t want to be, but many of my thoughts are, per our group conversations, more “Yellow and Red Light” thoughts. For example, I am eating right now, but only because I feel like I’ve been forced to do so by threat of increasing my meal plan or changing my medication. I still feel utterly repulsed by food. I still have an immense amount of anxiety around meals and snacks. I don’t feel like that has improved at all. I’m “white-knucking” meals and I’ve only begun to really accept treatment in the last 1-2 weeks, because I’ve only felt safe for the last 1-2 weeks.
I feel like my mental health is still extremely fragile. Yes, the SI has improved some over the last week, but my anxiety is still 8 or 9/10 every single day. And the SI is still there, lingering in the back of head and occasionally becoming loud and intrusive. Attending meals still causes me immense stress.
Yes, I do want to step down to PHP eventually, but stepping down in less than 2 weeks and especially returning home will make recovery almost impossible for me. The amount of stress that I will be responsible for when returning home is a lot for a stable person and I do not feel stable yet.
In regards to weight restoration goals, I have made it known that I do not accept the goals you have provided. They are unrealistic for me. My natural weight fluctuates between 135-140lbs. This was prior to the eating disorder, but before I was put on olanzapine, which made me gain 30+ lbs. Any goal outside of this range is completely unacceptable and I do not agree. I am eating somewhat stable now, but forcing weight restoration beyond what my body naturally wants to accept does not seem right and will cause relapse before I even get a chance to recover.
Please take my thoughts and needs into consideration before making any additional recommendations.
Sincerely,
Clara W.
Jesus, fuck. Can I be any more clear? What you’re suggesting is to sabotage my recovery before I ever even have a chance. Yes, I want to move on with my peers and yes I want to progress, but without safety, there is no recovery. Going home isn’t safe. What more can I say? This is a bad idea and it really pisses me off. This is why I don’t trust my team, at all. They don’t get me. We’ve only barely scratched the surface on the trauma. I honestly feel like we haven’t done any work at all. We’ve just talked about challenging Danielle’s “Truth” thoughts. The actual beating that I took and the psychological and emotional abuse has barely come up. I don’t feel like I get real sessions with my therapist. They are too short and they don’t dive deep enough. Is it that my team is the wrong team, maybe? I’m losing my mind here. The thought of leaving makes me sick to my stomach. I’m so fucking anxious, I can’t sleep. And frankly, I want to sabotage their plan by skipping night time meals and snacks. I want to leave here stable. I don’t want to check boxes and rush out the door. Why are they pushing me out the door before I’m ready? I wasn’t ready to go to phase II yet and they want to kick me out of the hospital. Jesus. Fuck. whose side are they on here?
I will get there. I will have a proper time and be ready. It’s just not yet. Not fucking yet. How do I feel? Angry. Why? Because they know that I’m not ready and they are pushing me, too fucking hard.
6:51 PM. Schemin on the stream or something, it SABOTAGE. I slept through dinner. I set it up perfectly so that’d be in my room, Kristen wouldn’t know that I was here, so she wouldn’t wake me. Courtney will be pissed, but if we’re working against each other, isn’t that what we do? Undermine each other’s efforts? That’s what we’re doing here, right? Sabotaging each other’s efforts? That’s what it feels like. I’m sad I missed dinner. Mostly because my dinner question answers were really fucking good. I’m not sad I missed the meal. I wanted to miss the meal, because I didn’t want the calories and I didn’t want to meet Courtney’s goal, because it’s not my goal. I don’t give a fuck. I do want my snack though. I’ll definitely have a snack. I got zero sleep last night and I needed to rest. I have all the excuses, look I’m bargaining. I don’t want to go to PHP. I’m terrified. Look Courtney, no consistency. Oops. And I bet the bitch passes me anyway. I hate this.
Kirsi got me the sweetest kudos. It’s a chain with a heart and a J on it. It’s so sweet and so fucking thoughtful. Her note was really sweet, too. It’s the type of note that I will keep forever. I’ll keep all these notes forever. Kirsi I owe a lot to, I was breaking down one day and she was there and I asked for a hug and she literally held me up. I was shaking and hyperventilating. And she held me. She’s a sister. I know Danielle said a lot of stupid shit, but the sister thing is real and Kirsi is a sister. We’ve got each other’s backs. It makes a lot of sense. Much more sense now. I wonder if she’d like me more now. Wait, no I don’t. She’s a cruel cunt. But she was right about the sisterhood thing and I think I might be part of it here. Maybe that’s part of the reason I don’t want to go. I don’t know, I just don’t think I’m well. Not yet.
I’ll print the letter and give it Aliana tomorrow or whatever her fucking name is. Fuck. I think I have some paperwork with it on there somewhere. I really should know that. I hate names, and sometimes I just can’t remember them. It’s not because they aren’t important, it’s because I don’t focus on a name. I focus on the story and she has a wonderful story. She’s from Africa, but came to America some time ago. She still has a strong accent, but is easier to understand than Nancy. Nancy has an easier name, but much harder to understand when she talks. Is that some sort of crazy inverse relationship? Probably not. Just overthinking on this one.
Today, the unit was more calm, starting with this morning. Lindsey got a new nickname, Hey Siri, because of her use of Siri to text her Dad and anyone else in her life dumb enough to give into her bullshit. So, what I’m trying to figure out is, if she stole a 2024 Porsche, why are they worried about the target theft. And no one takes $2500 of shit from Target in one go, they’ve been stealing for months or years, Target uses facial recognition to track the thefts over time and when they have Felony level thefts, they spring the target police on you who take you and back and show you video, potentially across stores across the country of you stealing shit. There is a calmness about the unit. I’m worried about Ella R. though. And Toby. Toby is a nice kid. I wish him the best. And with that thieving bitch around, they’re going to need luck. That hoe sucks. However, I am finding much less to write about without all of her great content.
I’m embarrassed to go get in the med line. I feel ashamed, not for fucking with Courtney, but for letting down my peers. I’m supposed to be setting an example and I slept through dinner. Not a super cool thing to do. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m broken. Remember?
It’s 9:12 PM and I was 3rd to last to get my night meds, meaning I have at least a solid 30 minutes before I fall asleep. And that’s just enough time to tell you about the funniest part of my whole day. I’m in Splataaaah brushing my teeth. Shit, I just realized I didn’t wash my face. Oops. Anyways, Katy walks in and without missing a beat says, “It’s waaaay too quiet in here without all that hacking.” It was so perfectly spot on. The timing was impeccable. I really like this Katy character. They are quite alright. They referred to it as the lore of Lindsey, who is now famously famous in the unit. But yeh, Katy is alright. I think there is mutual respect there. And it’s weird, we have a ton of the same thoughts at the same time. It’s been a while since I’ve known someone like that. Good news is, I don’t want to marry them. I just want a really amazing friend that is smart and likes good music and thinks my sense of humor isn’t weird. They get it. It’s cool. Also, they are a libra. DANGEROUS. But, it’s worth it. I hope we become friends, they are unique. I really like all the girls here. I’m not a bich, not anymore. Polly did that for me. They made me normal and accepted. Thanks Polly. I miss you so much already. I’m doing my very best to keep your spirit alive here until I join you over in PHP. Hopefully in a few weeks. Not too soon, but not too far away. Hopefully. I miss Juniper more every day. I do need to go home, I just don’t want to go home sick. That’s all.
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