Unicornucopia.org

What follows is stream of consciousness typing. Forgive any incoherence.

I hate myself. Fat, ugly, huge blob of a person with no real use to anyone. I don't understand why Shado stays with me. There are women out there who would be better for him, make him happier. Everyone has to change their lives around because of my fat. Can't go do things, can't sit in the seats at theatres or rides or ballgames or anything. Have to try and talk people into going to movie theatres with arms on the seats that go up, or else I get to come home with black/purple bruises on each hip because my ass is so fat that it doesn't fit into movie theatre seats without causing me pain. But that's fine. I deserve to hurt because I'm such a loser for letting my body become the fat blob of grease that it is. I deserve the arthritis, the diabetes, everything negative that goes with it because I'm too weak to control my own life. I can't even manage to lose weight. Something that should be simple. I have the knowledge, I just haven't got the strength to make myself do what I have to do.

Maybe the operation is a bad idea. What if I do it and end up just being a glutton and getting myself back where I started? Then I'll know that everything I've suspected is true and I'm the loser that I always figured myself for. But why should I doubt it? Everything points toward it. Fat, in debt, bitchy, hateful, childish, dumb and lazy...

I got the boots I've been waiting for last night in the mail. My calves are too big for them. What a shock, right? I should've known. I'm surprised my feet fit at all, considering how they swell every day. Fat feet. Cankles. I always felt that if I got so big I would be better off just being put out of my misery. Here I am, and too weak to change it. Pathetic. Loser. Waste of space, and too much space at that.

I hate myself. Pig, cow, Missy Moose...looks like the kids in high school were right when they wrote that on my locker *smirk*. Falling apart. The sooner it happens, the better. At least it'll give Shado time to find someone worthy of him.

Waste of air. Waste of time. Waste of life.

I hate myself. I hate the body that holds me. I hate the weak will that's in it. Every once in a while I let myself be deluded into thinking that maybe there's something worthwhile in me after all. Then reality hits. Something doesn't fit, or I can't put on a seatbelt in someone's car, or whatever.

Fool. Idiot. Letting yourself think you're worth anything. Wake up and smell the coffee, you fat cow. Lose or die? Yes, and? *sigh*

I hate myself.