Why? [rant]

Blah. I found my boyfriend's ex's screen name on his MSN list still. That's... mildly upsetting, right? But no, here I am: silently raging in my head over various topics that this discovery entails:
She's skinnier than me.
She's prettier than me.
She likes Carl Sagan and playing video games, and I don't.
She can fast for a month and can maintain and insanely amazing body, she has so much more willpower than me.
She's smarter, she probably is more eloquent and thoughtful than I am.
I am a boor, I have no discipline.
They almost/probably did have sex. Oh God, that image wont leave my mind.
These thoughts, they buzz about my skull like bees around a hive, angry and zig-zagging. I feel like my brain is going to explode.



Why do I do this to myself?
I am depressed.
I feel like my head is a balloon loosely tied to my shoulders. It bounces violently in a slight breeze, it's hard to control; I really hate this. I hate myself. I know I need to see my doctor again but I'm embarrassed for having missed the last few appointments with him. He's there, he's waiting for me. I told him I'd call him back, but I didn't.
I need meds.
John (my doctor) suspected that I might be exhibiting bipolar tendencies. It would definitely make sense: there's a streak of it in my family. These symptoms hadn't really shown themselves until the last two or three years or so though, which interests me. Is it just the ups and downs of being in and out of relationships? My last one definitely was not normal (read: he was abusive and stole money from me) My mom characterizes me as having been "high strung" as a child. Perhaps she meant "easily upset" instead? I do not know. All I want is to rip that squishy thing out of my head and punch it.
Poor John too. All I can think of is that scene in Analyze This (anyone? no?) when I go to my appointments. Billy Crystal plays the psychotherapist and in his first scene he is listening to Molly Shannon whine and complain about her ex-husband. He stands up and screams at her, "You drama queen! He doesn't love you anymore, get over it!". There's a quick cut and it's revealed that he was just fantasizing about doing so, and gives her one of the typical canned responses I hear from John often.
This is when I really appreciate Motion City Soundtrack. I don't want to sound sappy and naiive but their music and his lyrics really touch on this struggle I'm having with myself. That's dumb, right? Or maybe Justin Pierre is just as sensitive, overreactive, artsy and long-suffering as I am? Hah. I'm not sure. There's just something so creatively beautiful to me in laying bitter, angry words over happy synth. I'm sure there's a sea of indie kids in Seattle who'd agree with me.
His lyrics are the perfect balance between being hopeful and being willingly self-abusing. He sings about medications and depression and doctor's appointments and feeling lost; they are largely self-reflective (only about 1/3 of their songs are about relationships :p) Each song is perfectly fitted to a day I have experienced in my life, down to a T. It's almost unsettling.
What it most likely is, though, is that I am so goddamn lonely for friends and normal relationships with people outside of the boyfriend and work that I am becoming overly connected to his words. Note: stop self-analyzing (lol).

Zufriedengeben. "To be content" in German. If it wasn't so damn long I'd get it tattooed on the palm of my stupid hand. Note to self: consider tattoo options.

Anyway, besides that, here's my life as it stands presently:
I work at Safeway. I'm a checker. It's in this crappy little mountain town, Washington State. (Also, I see her often in the store. How's that for annoying? lol). I'm making a few friends. At least people who strike up conversations with me of their own will, which is more than I can say about my last job.
I'm doing much better in school and that is wonderfully satisfying. It gives me a sense of purpose that I lacked before. I'm learning a lot from my teachers this quarter (Colonial American History, Math 75, English 101). I wish I could have had teachers of this calibur in high school; maybe I wouldn't have such an embarrassing GPA.
I'm with said boyfriend. This Thursday's our one year anniversary. Bless him for putting up with my psychotic mood swings. I've just barely held onto this. I also, however, live with his mother. That's so very embarrassing, only a few people at work know it. And now you, Internets- you know it as well D:
I'm fat. Oh man, I'm fat. 5'8" and probably 230lbs by now. I'm so disgusting. I forgot how much people discriminate against fatties. It's nothing open; it's the little side-looks, the way eyes travel down my form and up in an appraising manner, when I pass men in public places they don't regard my presence at all (when I was skinny, they'd smile at me or say "Hi"). It's horrible. A few years ago, when I was skinny, I remember trying to explain this difference in public perception to my skinny female co-workers. They all denied it. Whatever, haha.

Egh. This is a rather abrupt ending, I suppose, to my first blog. I promise they wont all be this long and self-involved.
Here I am and will be. A written account of my lightening-storm of a mind. I bounce back and forth and make no sense. I'm often angry at myself and often head-over-heels-in-love with life.