Today I did not snack. I did not binge.
I just reminded myself that every day I go off my plan, is another day I'm postponing my happiness.
I will not postpone my happiness any longer. I refuse.
I'm tired, and cold. I'm feeling particularly low lately, suicidal.
I can't help but feel losing weight will make it better.
That magically, I won't be afraid to leave the house any more.
That somehow, I'll gain energy as I lose fat.
That satisfaction can be found when I finally accomplish something.
And mostly, that people will care about me again and I won't be lonely anymore.
On one hand, I want to cry and eat.
But no one will care about me then. No one will help me unless I'm tiny.
I only have 694 days left. I can't keep procrastinating.