I am angry. You can’t be my size and not have a spark of true anger and sadness running through your core making some mof your best days turn into fucked up ones. I am ridiculously sensitive. I always have been. I wanted “love” from 12-23. I was searching for someone to make me feel like all my friends have already felt and for me has always been unrequited love. I was always looking for male validation that was good enough. That I was pretty enough to have on their arm. Always. A lot of those feelings sparked my eating habits. My loneliness and sadness. My female examples always had a boyfriend. This year has done a lot for me. I have accepted my loneliness. I don’t necessarily say I am writing off men all together but at this point in my life I know I can’t do it. I am physically and emotionally unable to handle a relationship. I am always self doubting and I am too fucked up. Yeah. I like a guy and I think we could be great together if he gave me a fucking chance but if he has an issue with my weight (which I KNOW he did in high school no matter what he fucking says) I shouldn’t want him any way. I am a wreck of a woman. I know this. I am getting help. My anger is fueling my pursuit of my gastrectomy. That’s not good right? I am going to get better and I hope when I’m happier with myself I won’t be as angry or scared. Scared to death that everyone I know is talking shit about me. I don’t care so much about the ones I don’t know talking shit. I’m talking about the family that is supposed to love me regardless. The ones who haven’t seen me in a year so when I walk in the say wow you need to get on a diet. Yeah, my grandma said that. So I am angry. I can be a happy go lucky girl. I can be a damn pleasure to be around. But when a lot of shit goes wrong I am a girl that can feel like shit really fast and hard. It can make me angry. It can make me irrational.