(no subject)
I'm cold. And I'm sad. For no reason. I'm meant to be going out with friends tonight but they haven't called. And my body keeps trying to convince my mind to eat, but my mind can see my body and knows no ... and I don't know. I just feel very blah.
Ugly and frumpy and blah. Like I'll never feel okay in my own skin, like there's nothing else that will be okay until I do.
Uuugh. I hate this.
My head hurts I'm so cold. I have my dressing gown on, but I'm going to go put on a scarf and beanie.
I look like a twerp, but perhaps I'll warm up; white face peeping out behind dark brown hair, an inside-out dark red beanie, and over a dark blue scarf, wearing a pale blue dressing gown with white clouds.
Oh, mercy! I just felt like saying that. No particular reason. My insides are killing me.
Bugger. Nothing to do, noone to talk to, freezing cold, hungry, grumpy, sad, uncomfortable in this house, wishing i was at my new home and warm and ... well, not eating. I know it's stupid; but do you know what it's like to look at your body know it's frumpy and ugly, and it's not just you; if anyone told you the truth, they'd see that too? And if you don't eat you're too tired to exercise and if you do you feel fat and everything revolves around food and how big you are, and you feel uncomfortable in everything you were, and alone, even though there's others you love and care about, in your mind, you're alone, because your body makes you different; fat and ugly, even if your minds and souls are close. And you know it shouldn't matter, know there are many beautiful women who are the same size or bigger than you, but there's something about you that's wrong, that's different, that makes everything you wear look horrible and fat.
And I have that STUPID FUCKING song from ski yoghurt in my head. I'm very angry. But in an apathetic sort of way. I should probably go out if my friends call, but I'll have to resist the urge to drink until I pass out. Alcohol has too many calories, anyway.
Ugly and frumpy and blah. Like I'll never feel okay in my own skin, like there's nothing else that will be okay until I do.
Uuugh. I hate this.
My head hurts I'm so cold. I have my dressing gown on, but I'm going to go put on a scarf and beanie.
I look like a twerp, but perhaps I'll warm up; white face peeping out behind dark brown hair, an inside-out dark red beanie, and over a dark blue scarf, wearing a pale blue dressing gown with white clouds.
Oh, mercy! I just felt like saying that. No particular reason. My insides are killing me.
Bugger. Nothing to do, noone to talk to, freezing cold, hungry, grumpy, sad, uncomfortable in this house, wishing i was at my new home and warm and ... well, not eating. I know it's stupid; but do you know what it's like to look at your body know it's frumpy and ugly, and it's not just you; if anyone told you the truth, they'd see that too? And if you don't eat you're too tired to exercise and if you do you feel fat and everything revolves around food and how big you are, and you feel uncomfortable in everything you were, and alone, even though there's others you love and care about, in your mind, you're alone, because your body makes you different; fat and ugly, even if your minds and souls are close. And you know it shouldn't matter, know there are many beautiful women who are the same size or bigger than you, but there's something about you that's wrong, that's different, that makes everything you wear look horrible and fat.
And I have that STUPID FUCKING song from ski yoghurt in my head. I'm very angry. But in an apathetic sort of way. I should probably go out if my friends call, but I'll have to resist the urge to drink until I pass out. Alcohol has too many calories, anyway.