I have the urge to journal. Crazy, I know. It's sad when it gets to the point that walking upstairs, getting my notebook, and taking the extra time to actually write out the words seems like too much work.

It's been a fucking awesome summer, and I've worked out a lot of shit I should have dealt with long long ago. I've had fun doing it too. I'm finally ok with myself...even happy with who I am now.

Yet I'm still feeling needy. I crave validation and recognition as the new me. Or recognition as anything beautiful, or sexual, or wanted. For one day I want to feel like Andie. But then again, Andie doesn't feel any of those things either. Her self image is totally incongruent to how the male population sees her.

Ok, so a semi-painful hookup, an almost-comical snog with a hot guy in my bed (and in fact, a maybe-invitation into a friends with benefits relationship?), a night of cuddling with a slightly-less-than-savory semi-friend, and my as-of-now best guy friend insisting I have a nice ass. All in two weeks ....God, what a range. I should be happy, really, I should.

But instead I feel tossed to the curb. I feel "easy." I'm good for a night of awkward teenage fun (or three months, as the case may be), and then that's it. My emotions, from love to lust to just wanting to feel needed, are ignored the next day. And who's there for me when I feel all crappy and regretful and useless? Daniel. He makes me feel like I'm worth something. He says he doesn't know what to say to make me feel better but somehow he always does. He's an awesome friend, and he really helped me with my mini identity crisis today. I don't want to jeopardize our friendship.

Wow, ok, problems solved. I feel awesome. ...Hahaha. Hmm...yea, I guess I'm done now.