Today I told my counselor about the whole eating disorder. About the three-four years of it, about the overdosing and the throwing up, and being high every day after an overdose. Nobody really knew it was happening, and still my parents don't know the extent of how bad it was. So it felt really, really nice to tell her.

I've felt sort of suspended lately, it's odd. I was up really late again, trying to study for AP history. At least all my school work is paying off, as I have a 103% in math, 95% in AP US history (which is a feat). I have A's in the rest of my classes too, I won't go through them.

My English teacher continues to embarrass me... apparently my friend and I were the only people to get A+'s on our essays, and he totally singled us out in front of everyone (AWKWARD).

My counselor and I talked today about what happened in eigth grade some more, when my mom wasn't living with us and I had to go to the psych hospital, and how this one doctor (despite several other doctors disagreeing) decided I was a hypochondriac and making it up (my mom told him I was a hypochondriac). He confirmed for her all she needed to hear.