My Skin Sack.
I always thought I was fat. Like, sure I was really insecure about it, but I knew I wasn’t fat fat, do you know what I mean?
Well, times have changed. I weigh so much more than I used to. 145 pounds. Where the hell did that come from. My thighs are so fat that the sweat all day, my stomach is growing by the second, and don’t get me started on my double chin. What the fuck is wrong with me, letting myself slowly drain away into a bottomless pit of ugly. I have enough stresses and pressure weighing me down without looking at the scales.
In the back of my mind I always knew I was going to resort to purging or skipping meals, and I think that this time is crawling closer. I constantly search through pictures of perfect women- confident and sexy- and I can’t help but cry and watch my tears roll down the fat which is hanging off my bones.
I just don’t want to fall through this right now, not when my brother is back at home, not when everything was going so right. But happiness doesn’t last. And I promise you, one day I will claw my way out of this skin sack, and I will be beautiful.
What ever it takes.