Broken and Hopeless

It is so hard for me to make myself eat. I know that some of you are thinking it would be best for the fat pig to go through some anorexia, to lose some of that lard on her disgusting fat body. A few weeks of starving wouldn't hurt such a vile disgusting pig. 

With food, I do extremes. I either tend to eat for comfort or I go through periods of anorexia. The problem is, some of my pills are very harsh on my stomach. I have to eat a little, and it disgusts me to do so. Or I have to stop taking the pills and maybe have a complete breakdown.

Maybe something like macaroni and cheese would be palatable enough. Have some of those single serve cups. Got them for 89 cents each at the store. How trailer trash American of me, I'm sure. 

I know what I am. I am nothing. I am powerless to make any changes to stop the pain and injustice of this world.

I tried it for one soul who touched my heart. I only ended up looking like a fool and losing him in the process. The person (spirit) I set out to help now feels only disdain for me, seeing me as a weak loser. He is right. I am.

Trying to help the animals of this world I come upon abuse so ugly and horrible, done to animals in the name of arousing some sick fucking excuses for humanity. There is nothing I can do to stop this from happening. Yes, I have signed petitions. But there is nothing I can do to save the mutilated, helpless ones who were the victims of this depravity. I keep seeing visions of them in my mind and the idea of eating seems so selfish and vain. If they had to suffer so awfully, who am I to eat? How dare I think of eating when there is such suffering going on in the world.

I think of the victims in Haiti and how little my lame-o $15 contribution is worth. 

I have no power and no money. 

I thought I had a gift, a talent.

That too was a lie.

I am broken. 

I also think that perhaps if I don't eat for a long time I can weaken my heart enough that it will allow me to die.

In the end, that is what I really want, after all.