I will eat. I will eat and comfort myself in the only real way I know. Nothing else does the job. Nothing else fills the void. Nothing else eases the pain. There will be guilt and self hatred. That comes later. Who cares about that? I’ll use booze and sleeping pills to manage that.
The booze and sleeping pills can take me to the darkness, where nothing exists. There is no pain, no sadness, no guilt. Just nothing. The food will keep me safe in my fat suit. Where no one will want to touch me, love me. I will, again,become an embarrassment.
If I do the job right, my body will get bigger and my feelings smaller. It will be easier to lock the hurt, loneliness and despair far away. Things were easier when I was 300+ pounds.
FUCK. What am I doing? Seriously. What the fuck am I doing? I am tired. So very tired. The tired never goes away.
I want to stand naked in a field, arms flung wide, head back and scream to the heavens above to help me, answer me, lift me up, show me my path. Show me my destiny. Where am I supposed to be? Who am I supposed to be? I want to scream to the heavens “JUDGE ME NOW”. Because maybe if the heavens judge me now, I can cope with all those who judge me everyday.
And so, I will eat.