I guess I shouldn't scream about how sick of this I am anymore; it has become my life. Again. What has always been my life is still my life. (funny how wine makes me cry faster than pot does, huh?)
Nothing new. Just sitting here, hating my guts. Wondering what I do wrong. Wondering why men just don't want me. It's the fat, of course it's the fat. So why can't I just get off of my cellulite ass and do something about it? I don't even like eating anymore - it's just something to fucking do.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I hate my life so much at this second. But two minutes ago it was awesome so I guess I will just sit here and wait for that to come back.
Will I never be satisfied?
