My body hates me. I hate me. Everyone I date hates me. Members of my church who know me have every reason to hate me but I guess they just think I'm an awkward girl who needs some fellowshipping.(That's a weird-looking word but I'm not gonna completely re-write my sentence to avoid it!)
Isn't it fitting(rather the only sweater that fits) that the fat girl's biggest and currently only wearable sweater points out the obvious? Ugh.
I need to get used to straight-on photos because people see my that way and not from a foot above and off to the side, just at the angle that I am comfortable with.
Can you see in my eyes that I'm hurting? Or that my body is no longer in proportion to the size of my head? I see thin lips, a fat face, dark marks under my eyes and a masculine nose.
I'm so vulnerable.
I thought Jeff was so good for me. He made me feel wonderful. Then, without a word, he figuratively discarded me like a used condom.
One of the things I think about when considering suicide is that, aside from funeral expenses, I would no longer burden my family and community. Also that Utah may have a shortage of the only people strong enough to lay my body into a casket -- body builders.
I forgot to mention that I've been taking my generic Celexa very inconsistently lately. And my sleeping schedule is worse than ever. This morning I went to sleep a little after 8am and woke up around 5:30pm and in the weeks prior I've been getting to sleep between 5-6am.
I hate my life so much! I know very well that so many other people, even in America, have it worse but that doesn't mean that mine is automatically okay!
^----[SO TRUE]----^
I started to cry while finding images to illustrate this blog. I also smiled a little because my WeHeartIt collection is full of cats.
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