After a month of being sad and uncertain and feeling like every action had some underlying motive and questioning that motive, I feel I can live freely again. I am seeing Ian tonight and I am giddy (giddy, I tell you!) with anticipation.
This last month, I have been so unsettled that I have taken to scratching my legs again, something I thought I had (semi) under control. I have excema on my legs as a result – I scratch them in my sleep, and wake up with big red welts on the insides of my thighs and knees. I scratch them through my trousers at work, and force my hands above the table, cringing with the unscratched itchiness. And then my fingers move to my lips. I have picked my lips to within an inch of their lippyness – literally pulled small strips of skin from them. No balm or gloss seems to help, only lashings and lashings of Nivea soft. I go to bed with a white mouth.
It’s time to wean myself off of these self-destructive comforts. Yeah, it’s winter, but I now have good reason to shave my legs every day, and a dress to wear to a party in two weeks. As for the lips; well, I have a feeling I may be getting those exfoliated for me.
This is a 
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