Show me how you do that trick, the one that makes me scream.

I spent the last week in Texas, working on getting my affairs in order to make the move to California feel a little more permanent. I inherited my mother's house, a three-bedroom affair in Waco, but I have no desire to move back there or hold onto the house. Waco took twenty-five years of my life and I never want to call it  'home' again; not saying LA will be a permanent headquarters for me, but for now it's certainly better than the alternative of my hometown. Unfortunately, when I moved out the first time I was in a bit of a hurry and was forced to leave a lot of my stuff behind to be dealt with later; now I'm ready to put my house on the market to sell and it's still full of my things. Books, mostly, shelves of signed first editions and large coffee-table books and letterboxed special printings of tomes dear to my heart, and I need to pack them and move them out here safely. Most of the other things in the house, furniture and odds and ends, will be sold off in a big garage sale before the house goes up for sale. My uncle's doing some minor repairs and painting to make the place look more presentable to potential buyers. Soon it will close that chapter of my life for good.

I spent a great deal of time this week with my man. I've talked about Matt to the point that people are probably sick of it; I've become one of Those Girls who does nothing but gush about my boy. But I can't help it; I have never been in love like this. I've never had a love that it literally felt like 'completed' me; he picks up what I slack, and we meet in the middle on so many things. His laid-back amiable nature is a perfect balance for my neurotic insecurity, and I feel so fucking happy when I'm around him. Holding his hand feels as natural as breathing; falling asleep beside him, I've never slept so well. I love when he wakes up before sunrise, the room the purple-gray of a bruise, and kisses me before he gets up to make his coffee. I love all of his little quirks, I love the way he always smells like soap and a hint of tobacco and sometimes leather if he's in his old punk-rock jacket, I love that he listens to death metal and hardcore punk and then switches to smooth retro R&B. I love that I have to get on my tiptoes to hug him and that he automatically touches me, squeezes my neck, pats my shoulder, something every time he walks by me. We just sync up in a way I've never experienced before, and it feels so completely normal to be dating, like it was the next step to a long and deep friendship.

It's still hard, though. Being apart sucks and while everyone knows that long-distance is hard, we know that it's totally worth it to stick it out. Distance isn't forever; Matt and I both work in transient industries where sometimes you might spend a month at home, other times you might be stationed in bumfuck nowhere for two weeks or two months or half a year. You never know what's going to happen, and with Matt being an FX artist he's constantly bouncing from film set to film set. I'm a little more grounded out here in Hollywood but there's always the potential that I will be taking off, that I will be going to a set somewhere at any given moment, and we both have to stay on our toes for things like that. It means that for February Matt will be kicking ass on a film in North Carolina and I'll be working on things here in LA and we'll have an entire country between us. I won't see him until the end of March when he comes out west for Monsterpalooza. Two months of not getting to do all of the little things that people who live close together take for granted. I have all of the faith in the world in us and our love for each other-- he's the man for me, he's the one I want to be with. I can't imagine anything driving us apart, not with how close we've always been. I can talk to him about anything and it's an amazing feeling.

Matt is also finding out the not-so-cute side of me, which is that I'm still insecure and self-loathing and that I never truly feel pretty or glamorous or sexy. I don't like being undressed in front of him because of my body insecurities, and I still can't take my clothes off if the lights are on. I hide under the blankets as soon as they're off. I don't like when his hands come down somewhere that I'm mentally wracked about, and I pull into my own head like a snail retreating into its shell until he stops touching those areas. My stomach, my thighs, my upper arms, my ribs… everything makes me shrink into myself and mentally cringe, thinking about toned and fit women, about curves where they should be and not where they are necessarily. When I should be reveling in the feeling of a sexy man who adores me and wants to make me feel beautiful and loved and wanted and special.

He asks me what he can do to help, and I have to be honest and say 'nothing' because he already gives me his love and attention and affection. He's already better than I could've hoped for in a boyfriend. I don't know how to tell him to 'fix' me; I'm just messed up in the head, and I don't know if I will ever be 100% happy with myself or how I look and feel. I wish I could stop thinking about it and focus more on the moment, but that's the beautiful fucking nature of depression and self-doubt; they don't pick and choose when they rear their ugly little heads.

I need to start working out now that I'm back on LA soil. I have no excuses except my own head, which has always been my number-one enemy.

Too weird to live, too rare to die.

It's been a wild ride since my last post on Dec 31; it's 2014 now and the new year started off quite literally with a bang.

I will forever be grateful to Rob for giving me so many great opportunities in this life through offering me a job with his company. I've gotten to hear horror legend Robert Englund say lines that I wrote. I'm going to see my name on a credit crawl on the big screen for a major feature horror film. I got to meet people who started out as just talent that I admired (Robert Englund, Corey Taylor, etc) and turned into people I was joking and laughing with. But one of the things I'll forever be most grateful to Rob for was introducing me to Thomas. He's one of the sweetest, most genuine people I've ever met and the two of us can have these awesome rambling discussions about movies and music and books for hours. He is so incredibly talented and artistic that it's kind of insane; I'm pretty sure there's absolutely nothing on this earth that he sucks at. His music, his artwork, his acting, his writing, his photos, all of it is so great and he consistently wows me with his skill and creativity. To boot, he's also one of the most generous and thoughtful people, a sincerely good person, the kind you don't usually see. We've spent a lot of time together, both in Ohio and in Vegas and here in LA, and I am so lucky to call him a friend.

Because of him, I've found a renewed passion for my writing, and I find myself challenging me to do better in every artistic endeavor I tackle. I want to get on his level, so to speak. It makes me strive not to suck, something I'm always self-conscious about.

Not to mention his bestie Cally, who is incredible and amazing and so much fun, and Anthony, who is also awesome and who I look forward to getting to know more in the future.

When we got back from Vegas, it was back to work at the shop, and of course surrounded by my surrogate family. Megan remains one of the strongest, fiercest women I know and she is such a fun little firecracker. I really admire her in every way; same with Ikuo, who is honorable and kind and always has a nice word to say when you're having a rough day. Sam is one of the funniest and sweetest people I've ever met, as well as the most competent and capable and trustworthy, and there are no words for how much I love working with this team of people day in and day out. We've very much become a family up there, sticking together through thick and thin in the few short months we've all known each other, and I would take a bullet for any one of these people. Rob and Angelina have a really strong support system going, and the family are all here for each other no matter what.

I am still absolutely loving my life out here in Hollywood, even though it isn't without struggles. When I moved here in October I really didn't have time to be homesick, and it felt absurd to miss Texas when I was living a few minutes from the Hollywood sign. Everything here felt like this surreal fairy tale, a city of glamour and magic and possibility.

But then I went home for Christmas after the bleak, stressful insanity of Ohio, and when I got home there was just such an overwhelming onslaught of love. Love from Shawn and Jeff, of course, and love from Brandy, and love from Matt.

I think that last was the craziest and in some ways the hardest for me to accept. Matt being one of my best friends for years meant that we had a very strong, stable relationship foundation. I don't know if he ever knew what a crush I had on him, but I used to call Brandy and just gush about how adorable he was or how much I loved him. When he was going through hard times, I wanted so badly to fix it and make him feel better; when he was doing something awesome I was so immensely proud of him that I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

And now he's mine, and he's thousands of miles away. Irony's a bitch.

We both work in the industry and he's always working on projects for various films, going to locations and such the same as me. As a result this year's going to be a little chaotic as far as us spending much time together. Still, he understands the demands of my job and vice versa; I will never get on his ass about working long hours and not having the energy to call me, just like hopefully he will understand if I am texting him at 4 AM someday stressed and sad and overwhelmingly lonely and just needing to talk to someone.

But sleeping beside him, getting to kiss him and hold his hand and all of those little things that add up into huge ones, was enormous and it hurts not having access to that whenever I want it. We call each other a few times a day and text every so often just to say we're thinking about each other, and he knows he's always on my mind; I probably annoy everyone around me by talking about him every chance I get. But he's my guy and I've waited a long time to have a 'good' one. Victor, of course, was unfaithful and an asshole in the end even though I tried to end things with him gracefully. Before Victor  was a long single spell where I just explored myself and tried to get comfortable with who I am.

But Matt gets me. He knows me, he's known me for years. He's seen me at my best and my worst, he's seen me grow and change, he's laughed and cried with me. He knows what I've been through and why I am who I am. And he looks out for me. He has my back. He supports me and knows what to say and when to say it. He loves me even though I'm not perfect and even though I'm not beautiful. And it's been a very, very long time since I was with anyone who understood me like he does, who accepted me for who I am instead of tried to figure out what they could get me to change.

I love him with my whole heart. I don't think if I scoured the entire world I could find a guy who's better for me, who would treat me nicer or be more of a good boyfriend than he is. And I know that no matter how hard things are with the distance and the drama and the bullshit we'll inevitably face, I will never ever hurt him on purpose. Just the idea of him hurting makes my whole heart twist like someone's squeezing it. I've seen him hurt and it's never a position I'd want to see him in again. So no matter what happens, I will always love him and treat him with respect and the humanity he deserves. He's a good man, better than most, and for whatever crazy reason he has, he's mine. :)

I'm going home next week for seven days to finish packing up the rest of the stuff in my house and to see him. I'm excited to see all of my Texas friends of course, but Matt goes on location for a month in February and will be sequestered in North Carolina, so I want to get in some time with him before then.

I don't think I could ever love another guy as much as I love Matt. I am head-over-heels smitten as a kitten in love with him, and it's the best feeling in the world. It's like having firework sparklers and Pop Rocks inside your stomach all the time--- fuck butterflies, these are Mothras flapping around in there.

I am still unhappy with myself, even though I have so much beautiful stuff going on. When I get depressed, I still don't cope well and for whatever reason my instinct is to go for food. I don't know why, most of the time I'm not hungry at all, I just don't know how else to deal. I ate several pieces of chocolate the other night; I bought a box of pumpkin cheesecake cookies. I hate that I haven't developed better coping mechanisms by now even though I know how good it feels to pull on clothes from the 'normal' side of the store instead of the plus-size side.

I'm also very self-conscious about my weight, especially my extra skin. I really need to get plastic surgery to remove it; there are probably forty pounds of excess skin around my stomach, thighs and upper arms, and it's killing me. It's ugly and I hate how I look without clothes on. In Vegas, I was probably fucking high because I bought myself a bikini and actually wore it in the hot tub. It was from the 'normal'-sized section and it fit and it was cute, but my midsection was so flabby and gross and loose-looking that I can't believe I actually wore it in front of people. I hate the minute that I become aware of my flaws, when reality comes slamming back in. And of course I can't help but compare myself to other girls, especially all of my curvy-but-thin, beautiful friends.

Sometimes I think that I will never feel beautiful, that no matter what happens I will always be 'lesser' than all of my friends, and the idea of that makes me feel sort of sick and even more angry and disheartened with myself.

150 pounds down and I still don't feel 'good' enough. The fat was just physical; my brain is still fucked.