There Are Things I Don't Have Time For

And rehab is one of them.

Quite honestly, I'm well-aware that at even the points when I am most lucid, I possess a deep internal conflict that would cause most to go running to their nearest psychiatrist, but I am not one of those people. For one thing, pride is the deadly sin that has the greatest hold on me. I am too proud to admit that perhaps it would be a good idea if I spoke to someone about how I'm feeling. This is fact.

Then again, when one sits here and is told time and again that they are overweight, that two years ago, they looked beautiful but now they look kind of round and dumpy, and that there needs to be more prioritizing in one's life (because physical beauty is naturally more important than how well one is doing in school), it gets tiring. That is me. That is what I go through and have gone through every year since my sophomore year in high school. Some things never change, indeed.

The sad part is that I refuse to engage in an eating disorder such as bulimia or anorexia nervosa simply because of the fact that I don't have time to be outed, go for a psychological evaluation, and be made to check-in to a rehabilitation center for those who have dysfunctional body image and are made to drink ensure or eat everything on their plate. It's not going to work for me. I don't have time to sit there and get well and I am not saying, by any means, that these institutions don't work or aren't great, but that I personally do not see how missing an entire few weeks of school to go into therapy will benefit my overall outlook on life.

Truth be told, my mother thinks I'm fat, I can't look into the mirror and there's nothing I can do about it except lose the weight so that she'll shut up or start calling me too skinny.

Pathetic.