"this is fact not fiction, for the first time in years..."
I am starting to realize just how much is wrong with me. And how much I want to finish school, get a real job so that I can have proper insurance so as to deal with all my shit. My depression comes from my belief that my body is crap. It is ugly. It is disgusting. I hate it. I'd rather be at home, alone in my room than out among people, subjecting them to my ugliness. I feel that disgusting. I feel that ugly. This causes me to be lazy, thus only getting fatter and fatter. I don't want to be fat. I don't want to hate myself forever, because... when suicide is something that I think about and fantasize about... I know I'm sick. I want to be the person I've wished to be. Thin. Beautiful. Wise. Patient. Kind. Loving. Loved. The opposite of what I have been my whole life. I want my confidence to always be there instead of smoke disappearing beneath grasps. I want to be better than what I have become. I want to be able to feel successful and happy. And... if not happy, then content. I want to be able to lie in bed all day for a day and not feel guilty for being lazy and fat. I want to be able to eat something and not think of ways to punish myself for it later. I want to workout as a daily routine, not 2 hrs of sweating and pain because I haven't lost any weight lately.
I want so badly to be . . . someone else. I am not thin beautiful wise patient kind or loved. Rather fat ugly stupid impulsive lazy and ignored. And even if I was all of those good things... without being thin... those things are worthless. No one wants to be loved by a fat woman. No one cares if a fat girl is kind or patient. She should be. She's fucking ugly and worthless. And no one loves a fat women. No, she is pitied. And here I am back at the beginning. Ana is the only way to a better life.
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