I looked in the mirror and punched myself for what i saw. I can't believe how i let myself get so carried away with food and not seeming to care how i looked. I cried when i pinched my fat and swore i would do whatever it takes to get back on track.
I don't think i could ever be happy again unless i'm thin. I just feel as if my selfworth depends on how i look. My mom never cares as much as she does for my sister, and crying at night doesn't help. Pushup, after pushup helps me concentrate on one thing: up and down, up and down. Nothing else matters as much as how many calories i burn. Nothing. It hurts but it numbs every other pain around me.
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