Let's try this again.
Today wasn't terribly eventful. I did make it through a technique class without scratching myself so I guess that's good. And I think it's been long enough that you don't really know what that means.
I don't know when i started  Scratch that, I do. It was during our "Broadway Bound" performance in May. Back in 9th grade I had fake nails, round and smooth. That's when the pencil "drawings" began. But for the past year or so I haven't had fake nails, because we couldn't afford them. Come May. I messed during my solo, or maybe one of the other dances, but when I went in to change costumes I just ran my nails down my arm. I'd scratched myself before and nothing had come of it. I guess I scratched a little harder that time. The following Monday I came to school with scabs down my arms. Maddy asked about them, but I just claimed wardrobe malfunction (gloves). The story worked with my mother too. At any rate, I kind of liked it. I know that sounds sadistic, but it's the truth. It was evidence right there on my arm. Proof that I really had messed up. And now it's just something I do. When I mess up, I scratch. When I'm mad at myself, I scratch. And when it's really bad, I do my best to truly break the skin. This sounds so wrong. I shouldn't be doing this. I'm going to have scars. I already kind of do. I'm ... am I a cutter? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet? But, no. I don't use blades. I don't watch wistfully as streams of blood roll down my wrists. It's not the same right? Maybe?
Oh well.
Moving on. Variations was bad. my feet hurt horribly and I barely got up on pointe at all, but oh well. Then lunch. I was a fool, as usual, and got food. I should have just skipped it like yesterday. And I should have stayed away from my father tonight. In one night I gained back all the weight I'd lost in 2 weeks. Then we had pas de deux. I didn't elbow Roy in the face today, which is improvement I suppose, but I hate that that's the standard. We had a couple really good turns, even got in a quad finger turn. But I think I kind of messed up his finger, and I know that I was dead weight in jumps. He couldn't even finish the set. Why is he always so nice about it? I feel awful. I did scratch during pas. I didn't notice then, but when we were on the sides in choreography later I noticed a rather large and dark scab on the top of my right wrist, today's playing field. Then choreography. Not much. I messed up a little, but she doesn't really care. Yoga; uneventful. Took public transit home and practically fell asleep on the train. When we were approaching one of the final stops I finally sat up and a man nearby who was getting off looked very relieved. Came home. Wasted time. Ate. Got fat. The usual.

So umm, life. I'm in Guys and Dolls at the Hale Center Theater in Orem. It's been a lot of fun. The most social life I've ever had. (a.k.a. dinner after the show once a week) The whole cast is super sweet. I have fun bantering with Eric, who's 9 years older and married, but has my mother convinced he likes me.
She's such a a fool. I feel like she's more of a teenager than I am. She talks exactly like Lexi, except Lexi is 17 and my mom is 51 so everything sounds wrong coming out of her mouth.