180

Hopefully 179 by tomorrow. If it isn't I am running until I can't fucking run anymore or until I pass out. Or both.

I hate this body. I hate it. My hips are huge. HUGE. Fucking gigantic. I hate it. I can't take my fucking hips, my fat stomach, my wide body. From the side it isn't that bad but god from the front. I just don't want to be awkward and fat and stuck in this horrendous body. I just want to be small and skinny and tiny and fragile again.

FUCK.

Slowly but surely. Tomorrow I am on the underside of eighty. Or so much exercise that I will pass out. Then before I know it I'll be underneath seventy. Then sixty. Fifty. Fourty. Thirty. Twenty. Ten.

Then who knows. Death probably. But at least I will be beautiful and pure in my coffin.

Dream on.

Miu