..:: Animal I Have Become ::..

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?
No one will ever change this animal I have become!
Help me believe it's not the real me.
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become.

~Three Days Grace

Went to the doctor's today,

and we talked about my anxiety.

He thinks I should start seeing a psychologist.

And the thought of talking to someone

about myself and my anxiety

is only making me more anxious.

Just give me some pretty little pills,

I'll be fine.

I don't want anyone in my head.

What I ate today:

1/4 of a large bread roll at work.

I'm tired of being fat.

For fuck's sake I know I can do better.

Went to the craft store and ended up with this.

I saw it somewhere online,

and it seemed like my kinda thing.

The marbles are actually a really pretty lilac color,

but the camera on my phone sucks.

Anyways, in case any of you haven't seen this

kind of thing before,

I put 80 marbles in the glass on the left,

and none in the glass on the right.

Each marble represents a half a pound.

When I lose weight, I'll move an equal

amount of marbles to the glass on the right.

And hopefully by the end,

I'll have lost 40 pounds.

Ready for an

uglyuglyugly

number?

138.

That's what I weighed in at this morning,

and the amount I'll be starting at this time around.

Hopefully this marble thing will work out.

On a completely different note,

here's what I wrote in my journal yesterday after my run.

The cold air hurts my teeth. My lips are dry, but I'm too out of breath to wet them. I want this. I'm so out of shape in my baggy sweats. I run down a couple streets, music blasting in my ears so loud I wonder if my brain will explode. But loud is good. I can't hear my pathetic panting. I can't hear my heavy footfalls cracking the cement. I want this. The music gets blurry and thrown together in a language I can't understand until I can't hear anything. I can't think. I want this. I come to the end of another street and my legs slow down and I can't make them go any faster. I don't notice until I'm walking that I've slowed down completely and suddenly I'm standing still. Cars pass and the faces of strangers look at me, taunting, and I can do nothing but stand still. This isn't right. A group of people come into view about halfway down the street, and suddenly I'm running again. Won't be able to take the embarrassment, so I run faster than before. I want this. It doesn't take long before my breathing gets loud and short again, but I can't hear it. I can only feel the cold air drilling holes in my teeth, stinging my throat, traveling down to swirl painfully in my lungs. I want this. My eyes start to get blurry and suddenly my burning hot face is wet. I'm crying. I'm crying because it hurts but I want it so badly. I want it more than anything. Ican'tbreathe. I'm back on my street and I sprint the length to my house, wanting it to end but wanting to push myself harder at the same time. I want this. I'm gripping the fence, dry heaving. Nothing but the cold air has filled me up all day. My hands are shaking as I float back into my house. My body hates me almost as much as I hate it.

This is how I think.

A bit overdramatic, I'd say, yeah?

I don't know why I wanted to add this,

but I did.

Anyways,

Good Luck,

Stay Strong.

I hope you're all doing alright.