I hate my body once again. I do well and all of a sudden I'm convinced I need to starve in order to be loved. then this urge will go away and I'll be almost content with my weight until I find a new reason to despise it. I blame it for my misfortune and thank it for the peace it gives me, I view it as the main culprit for my absolute lack of romantic experiences and I'm also grateful it shields me from superficial people and catcalling. maybe tomorrow I'll love it again or maybe I'll skip two meals. I'll forever have an eternal fascination with the way my brain works, how it control emotions and makes sure I have almost all the time a reason to worry and have a bad time. I uninstalled all forms of social media a month ago and all I'm left with is youtube and Pinterest but apparently I still find a way to feel insecure which is absolutely terrific, it means I don't give up easily and I persevere in my old ways, those being hating myself.