Point

What is the point? I mean...seriously. Even if I do lose weight...I'll still be me. I hate me.

Sleep

I'm exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally exhausted. It's after midnight, so maybe that's the problem, but it isn't always. I never know until I wake up in the morning if I'm going to be okay or not. But sometimes, like now, I don't even want to wait to find out. I'd rather just slip into nothing. Non-existence. I'm tired, Anne. I can find the good in everyone but myself. What then is left to me?


What then is left?