I am pale, pallid, wan.

I know.

And I strive so much for acceptance. This is part of the problem- people can sniff it a mile away, and my brand is particularly noxious. I think I have good taste in people- I like her of the House, I like people that are worthwhile- but I can't seem to stop striving for their approval, and I need not to do it. It's with the people that I care a little less about that I'm best. Otherwise, I go into overdrive- I'm too much, manic, or utterly withdrawn and silent because I'm intimidated by their excellence.

I need something.

Drugs would be it.

Or I can set myself a goal.

I've got two goals, one is to be in a play and one is to be a size ten (UK). The first is easier than the second. I used to want to be a size eight, but I'm going to have to be more realistic. I'm a size 12-14 now, at 5ft 8. I wear a 36A bra. My Mum bought me a size 14-16 pair of pyjamas for christmas. They're quite nice, but I can't wear them without getting this churning feeling in my stomach, and an embarrassed prickle on the back of my neck. I put them on last night and couldn't sleep in them. I was angry, if anything. I am not prepared to wear anything that's a size 16. Not even if Mum bought it on the basis of it being big.

I feel like I can't control anything, and I need to control this to stop people giving me advice on what to wear and how to be, because the horrible truth is that if I was skinnier it really wouldn't matter so much and Mum wouldn't mind. I don't think that my life would be perfect, but it would be one segment to worry about less. When I'm thinner, I feel that people judge me less and I'm easier to be around. It's something I've won at, when I feel I'm failing in all else. I feel like I'm not clever, like I'm a charlatan. Not witty, not able to get a good job like my classmates, not anything and I hate it. I can't even break out of it because I'm too scared and too absorbed in everyone else and their successes to think about how I can be like them. Well, this is one area I will win in. I am going to be thin and I am going to be in a play. And the rest will come.

Here are things that will make me thinner, that I am already doing:

1. Eating when hungry.

2. Occupying my time with walks and things like that.

3. Eating fruit and veg.

4. Drinking water a lot.

5. Drinking less alcohol and more tea.

6. Walking for an hour a day, or doing something similarly exercise based that I find pleasant.

My hair is dark like blood at night, and my skin is pale and my cheekbones are cutting through. And I feel happier.

I am good because:

I have worked out, on my own, that I can please who I want to, and that I don't necessarily have to please the cousins.

I do things because I like to and not because I should.

I am accepting, and I don't expect much from people.

I would rather be with someone who feels the same rather than have inequality of partnership.

I would rather speak French than drink alcopops and bump and grind.

Oh, but these things don't compare to a junior editorship at a wonderful publisher's and novel writing on the side, a place on a marketing theatrical scheme for postgraduates, a potential teacher who knows exactly what she'll do and a traveller with a first from my University. Why on earth would they all be interested in me? I just feel like I've fallen so far behind that I might cry, living at home in a shared room and having nothing whatsoever to offer the working world. I hate myself. I hate being me. I hate, hate hate. I just want to feel like I'm on par, and I'm not, they're all prettier and better and thinner and no wonder I just can't.

I am crap.

I hate it.

There's a feeling of my throat widening, so I have to swallow and tears come, just a few. I'm not crying. It's more a watering of the eyes. I just feel like I'm this terrible composite version of all the people I know, they're all better versions of me than I am of myself and I'm just terrible at everything, too mediocre and half-assed and not perfectionist enough at anything to be chosen for it, just middling at lots of things. I can't even form relationships without freaking out about it.

I wish that it wasn't two in the morning and I could go on a walk. Ideally, I would ring her, and we'd meet and go on a walk together, because nothing's as scary in the darkness and she's good at defending herself anyway. We'd walk and I'd say exactly what was wrong, and she'd say nothing except... I like you.

And that would be fine. And I'd listen to her be sad too. I just want someone to listen to all this stupid narcissistic crap and tell me that they like me nontheless. It's not going to happen. I don't want anyone to tell me that I am better, that I will succeed, that it's OK, because none of those are guaranteed and none of them are true. I want someone that says it's OK to be angry, and that it's OK to feel what I feel. I can't be a perfect person.

And after I'd done all that, and had a final kick at a tree stump or a lamp post, we'd sit and just laugh at how silly I am. And that makes it seem so much less...

I should have gone to help at the House tonight, if I had I wouldn't be sitting here typing out things that are beyond ridiculous, beyond pitiful and I wouldn't have had that conversation with my brother or felt this way, because the Lady of The House has some sort of calming effect on me that makes me believe it will be alright and that I am useful, because she trusts me and these people trust me and I'm doing something that's good and that's effective, there and then. I don't tell her these things, but she's got such a different outlook- looking at others- that it rubs off and I don't focus on I. She's always got something interesting to say, always fascinates.

I wish I'd gone.