Blackseraphine

 I woke up several days ago with the sudden realization that I've been feeling uncomfortable for at least a month.

My thighs are hitting each other like a seal slapping it's stomach with it's flipper.

Why the fuck did I let myself go this far??

And the worst thing about it? I haven't been this weight in about 3 years.

Three damn years of slow progress down the drain in a few months. And I have rationalized back then that slow is still good because at least it was progress. At least it was to minimize loose skin because the changes had been so slow. And even that is lost now. Everything lost.

And I hate myself. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why do I keep finding ways to destroy myself? To prevent myself from getting better, moving forward?

There's something wrong with me and I can't get it together.

I'm seeing other people prepare, eating only bland foods for two months since it was announced, exercising... All these women– prepared. But me? I went the other way. I haven't prepared. At all. Why the fuck can't I do it like they did? I wasted time. Wasted so much time.

When I was a teenager, I was sitting on a rusty metal chair. The front part had partially lifted, and a piece of metal was sticking out. In my mind I said, if I moved my leg without lifting it, it would cut my leg. I moved my leg without lifting it. The metal created a small, superficial cut and I watched the blood trickle down my leg. Why do I keep wanting to do this to myself?

Why do I hate myself so much?