And again I feel like I'm really lame. I'm huge. I'm a huge piece of fat.

I want to cry, to scream, to keel my self for being such an ugly person. JEULOSY is the name of the game I'm playing. I hate myself; I prefer being a flower then living my life.

Ok, my life is not that bad. I surrounded in people who really loves me, and giving me the best time ever. It's just me. Me, me, me.

All the time just food, food, food. Such a cow.

I hate the way I look, the way I behave and the way I'm being so selfish and rood.

I hate it when my friend's clothes don't fit, it to small, obviously. I feel ridicules. I feel clumsy and useless. I know I'm not being myself because I can't tell people what I really think. I'm coward, phony. Nobody knows the real me. I'm lying even to my mother. The worst part is that I don’t know why. That's me, stupid.

I think I need a psychiatrist.