Elitist/Masochistic?

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I've been terrified to post. This is due to the fact that... lately... besides some admitted stress-induced, high calorie indulgences... I've been good. The first week back and this week too have really kicked my ass. I've worked a ton, I've hung out a ton with friends, I've excerised, I've done homework, I've studied, I've convinced myself that, for me, not knowing what I want to do with my life IS the BEST thing... basically, I've been a) too busy to actually spend time wallowing in negativity and b) ...happy (dare I say).

Sure, it's hard. I've had a few school/ocd/food related crying-breakdowns. But, that's ok, right? Emotion is ok? If pain is what is real... if it is what it takes to feel, then that's the price we pay, right? Part of me is satisfied with this... wanting to convince the rest of me that - hey, life is OK! But "happiness" makes me hyper self-aware. I'm realising a pattern. Despite general moodswings and some motivation to be content... I honestly think a real reason behind my continued plateau of contentedness is the fact that everyone else's life is crumbling around me.

One of my friends just finally left her abusive household.
Her boyfriend is failing because he doesn't sleep because he's so worried about her.
Another friend confessed her OCD and body issues (wow now) related to her not being the Asian stereotype (she's gorgeous, just not stick-thin, JPOP princess-genius, anime lover).
Another friend is having surgery.
Another's mother is starting chemo.

So, really, what am I complaining about? It makes me wonder if I am secretly elitist. My life is ALWAYS going to be worse than yours, and, well, if it isn't, I am going to be HAPPIER. Or if, by making this realisation, that I am completely masochistic because I can't even appreciate my own good perception on the present.

Hm. For now, anyways, things are good. I've been scared to post because of my good mood and because I have been getting bigger... muscle wise. Which, I know, will pay off at some point. But, right now, I'm just bloated (it looks) because I've been working my abs/thighs/arms. My arms are so THICK because the layer of fat didn't go before the muscle came back. D:

Valentines day is coming up, so we'll see how long this actually lasts. I really really really want to do the bitch-thing and just tell Z I like him because his snide remarks kill me inside. Then again, how many times have I (in jest and in the moment) told him I love him? Too many. Mrrrrg.

I'm a terrible community member, but I love you all. Promise :)