January 1, 2018.

Another year. I feel old. I feel rushed. Like I need to find my happiness before I run out of time. I want to be happy and settled in so I can relax.

I’m laying in bed still. It’s almost noon.

I told Wyatt and Ray that they needed to be out by March. I want my house back.

I stayed home alone last night. Boring, but I didn’t have anything else to do. I ate junk food and had a drink.

I’m going to lose weight by summer. I don’t have to be skinny, just thinner. I’ll be happy at 140.

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