I’m a fat failure.
I’m fat. I’m obese.
These are the words that keep repeating in my head on a loop, like some sort of chant. All day. I feel a lot of pain today, mainly because of this…this body. This disgusting ball of fat I call my body. I have a plan in my head to take back all of this and get back in shape. I’m so fat I feel sick.
Meanwhile, the doubts about my career keep popping up. Today and yesterday have been a constant internal battle because my heart keeps telling me to do psychiatry, while my mind tells me to do something else like ophthalmology. I’m tired of this, and I’ve tried speaking to family and friends, but none of their words are reassuring. The reality is, I don’t find anything else as fascinating as I find psychiatry. But then there’s my social anxiety and social awkwardness getting in the way. Especially the anxiety.
I want to talk to M so bad. I need her. She’s all I need right now. But I won’t see her until Tuesday. I can’t wait until Tuesday, I need her now. I can’t quiet down my mind. The degree of desperation I feel right now is indescribable.
I’ve spent practically the whole day locked in my room, sitting in bed, trying to study but not getting anything across. Now it’s 6pm and I haven’t done anything. A fat failure.
And I keep looking at myself in the mirror, body checking, grabbing rolls of fat. Looking at my thighs…especially my thighs. My goddamn thighs. But I can’t stop eating. And what I keep eating is junk food, to top it all off.
I can’t focus. I keep writhing my hands and feet and tensing up my muscles.