life: live. love.

Sometimes, I don’t think I can take it anymore. I hate these random bouts of depression. They get old very quickly. To make things worse, I just went on to Xanga just to check things out and read some of the featured blogs. One that caught my eye was a picture of a plus-size model with pictures in a magazine that were completely untouched by Photoshop. Everyone was praising the blogger for posting up the picture and the magazine for posting such a picture. All it did was make me realize how much of a fat ass I am. She was a size 12-14 model and only had this much pudge. Just a little bit of pooch with no rolls other than that. I’m a size 9-11. I have fat rolls galore. I’m considered overweight, probably even obese by this point, for my height. I even refused to go eat lunch because I don’t deserve it, even though I know it’s not healthy to only eat a granola bar and five Club crackers.

I know I shouldn’t go back down this road again. When I was, I was eating less that 500 calories a day. No one should eat that little. I should exercise because that’s the healthy thing to do. But no. No matter how many times I say I will, I don’t. I just don’t have the initiative to do it. I want to, but I don’t. Not to much my period’s been making me feel incredibly sick this week. Classes started this week too.

I suppose I’m already stressing myself out. I’m starting to feel depressed again. The self-loathing monster inside of me is starting to show its claws once again. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get rid it. I can’t get rid of the thoughts in my head. I could be having the best day in the world and then – BAM! – Thought: ‘You don’t deserve your boyfriend. He could be with much better, prettier, smarter girls that share his interests and don’t bitch at him and piss him off.’ I don’t deserve a majority of the things I have. In fact, I probably deserve to be dead. It’d probably be better if I was dead.

No, it’s the depression talking.

No, it’s me.