Keep losing

I've never thought that I'd have gotten to this point.





If you asked me last year, I had no doubt I'd have died a bit after turning 18. I used to tell myself everyday: "Just 503 more days. Just 502. 501..."
This was the only plan about my life I made.
I was so sick of trying. So tired of thinking and dreaming to become someone that I'd have never been.
Now I'm still sick and tired of life, but somehow, for some reasons, I'm thinking about a different future. Maybe I just got too coward.



I feel so ashamed of myself.
I feel ashamed for failing to suicide all those times.
I feel ashamed for not doing anything good with my life even after deciding to stay.

Frustration makes  me bite my lips till they bleed.










"What do you want to do?"

I don't know. Nothing. That's it. I want to fall asleep right now and never wake up.




"Is it really so sad to be alive?"

It is, when you are me. When you see all the uncountable possibilities that life offers you but you are simply unable to do anything. Constantly paralysed in an awfully fat body. Prisoned in a mind that denies the thought itself and gets stuck on the calories, on the pain, on dreams of great and nothing, in a tribal dance of light and dark, life and death, everything and nothing.









I can't see any future for me. I know I gotta pick a path to follow. But I can't. I can't do anything. I'm not good at anything. I don't like anything. And I realize that I'm more a freak than a human being. A pathetic and worthless amount of fat.
I feel ashamed to go out. I feel ashamed of being seen even by my parents, by my brother.











I wish I could be weightless.



I wish I could be so different.



I wish I had a passion, a quality.



I wish I was good at least at something. Even just one thing.



I hate being this useless.



I hate being so wrong.


I hate being myself.

I feel like trapped. I want to get out. I want to cry and shout in despair, but the screams are locked in my mind like everything else. I can't feel any emotions anymore. I can't react. Everything that happens to me slips in another dimension of oblivion.
I don't know who I am, what I am.
I don't know what happened to me.
Where was I while my life was going by?
How did I spend all these years?
I want to cry, because I don't know, although I am supposed to be able to answer those questions.
I don't recognize my self.






Sometimes I feel as if I woke up in this body, in this life, just this morning, without knowing anything about my past.





Have I really always been this me?







                                                                         I can feel the fat coming out of my trousers. Every inch of it reminds me of the failure I am. 








I should have died that night. I should have died that night. I should have died that night.







I hate my parents for giving me life.












I look at my hands while writing and they give me the creeps.
They're so fat.
They don't look even mine.
They seem two weird independent animals. Mollusks.




I'm afraid.




Booking the plane tickets. In 3 months I'll be in your arms.
Do I really deserve it?
What did you see in me so special? So unique? Why me?







He's got the summer sky's blue in his eyes.
He says he loves me. I believe him. I want to believe him.
I just wonder who he's really in love with.
Cause it can't be me.














I wish I could have a dream.















P.S. Thank you BeautifulThinner 16 for being my new follower. I'll answer the comments etc later. Sorry, but I feel just to weak right now. This is not a good excuse, I know. I guess that it's cause reality is worse than fiction and stuff like that. Hope you're all doing good.