Last night I went out to the movies with Jill. It was fun. I ate a shitload of white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies and dr pepper. And chips. And I regretted it last night and this morning.
I had to wake up at 5 am to get ready and go to work with my dad. I woke up on time, alright. I woke up because I barely slept. My stomach didn't let me sleep well. I went to the bathroom to see if I could puke. I wasn't able to. Then I sat down wondering if I could puke it out or whatever for about 20 minutes. I water loaded, and that kinda flushed my system. However...
Today my amazing dad started calling me fat in front of these stupid latinos. They understood. I was telling him to stop it and to tell me later. Fucker... I felt like utter shit. I left without saying bye. I went to the train station and called Mel, the only person whom kinda knows from experience what I felt. However, I wasn't able to talk about it. I hung up and went somewhere where I could be either alone or at a reasonable distance from people.
I hate what I look like. I really do. All that I wish I was... I'm not. And I'm sick of it.
I don't wanna see my dad again. In fact, I don't wanna see everyone. I wish I could just disappear and die alone: a fat happy bastard.
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