Death is always so close. Someone recently passed away, someone important. Someone who really impacted and inspired me.
I feel like... Dammit. I feel like I'm actively trying to push myself back into that familiar pit of self-loathing, so that I take action and lose weight again, regardless I of how. Like I want to be sick. And that is fucked up. I know it is. It isn't like I really want to be miserable and in mental hell. I don't want to be weak and frail. But I can see and feel myself acting towards this end. I literally hear a voice telling me what to do to get bad again, to regress. To fall backwards, and fast.
There's so much else going on, yet this is all my mind can focus on.
I weigh an intolerable amount. My body has defied me, with my mind. Nothing makes sense.
Yet all proceeds as normal.
I am merely one fat drop in the ocean.
