An Emo Moment... Apologies are in order to begin with... *bows*

I understand the complications. I understand why my parents persist. And I understand it all. What I don't understand is why it's so hard for my parents to understand how to practice a little bit of consideration... or even a little bit of...

You know, I don't really know what I want from them. But what I don't want is for them to continuously be breathing down my back about doing certain things and then give me obstacles.

Like you really think that this is an effort I've never tried to make on my own. And like you really think that this is something I enjoy.

I know. I know. And I know.

But right now, I can't seem to keep myself from wanting to explode or burst into tears. I'm not a depressing person, but certain circumstances always turn me into one. Right now is really not the best time to make me feel so much more inferior than the rest of the world.

So what if I'm overweight? So what if I'm fat? So what if I'm practically rolling stomach out of my shirts? So what if I'm so disgusting that it hurts to look at me? I can one hundred percent tell all of you fools that I am healthier than a marathon runner. I could probably out run one if I feel like it because I'm a fool like that. My being fat has nothing to do with MY personal health.

Because for all my glory of being a hundred pounds heavier than my parent's ideal target weight, I've yet to contract any disease or disorder mostly common within my family and caused by being obese. I'm very healthy.

And now I'm being completely random and stupid. I don't even know what the hell I'm talking about anymore.

But you know, surgar-coating the words "Your fat and you need to lose weight because we can see your bulging stomach" with the words "we just want you to be healthy" does not help to increase my already diminishing self-confidence that I can at least control one aspect of my life. Everything in my life is not going according to plan right now, I've lost all confidence in my future career, and I've had about three hours of sleep in the past twenty-four to four-eight hours. I'm so tired because I ran and ran all day today for the sake of a job I don't even like, but that I can't seem to stop killing my physical exterior for, and I don't even know what my life is worth anymore.

Slapping me in the face by suddenly bringing up the issue of my weight does NOT exactly tell me how much my parents love me. Instead, I just feel like I've been reduced to a cretin about to be smashed beneath Glory's bare feet. Not only that, but my right wrist is either twisted or bruised, I may have Carpel Tunnel since my left hand is always losing feeling, my right knee is beginning to give out on me again, and my back and shoulders are eternally stressed.

But you know what, according to the doctor I'm completely one hundred percent healthy and probably much more so than my athletic little brother.

I've done what my own motivation will allow. I don't eat like a pig. I've gone to physical activities classes-- I've taken Pilates, Cardio-kickboxing, Yoga, Turbokick... I've gone to the gym. I've gone on diet pills. I've done everything I can do. But it's either of my own willpower, or because of sheer misfortune.

I've never lost one pound of weight for the past three years, no matter how hard I've tried. And granted, maybe I just need to try harder. And I know that I have to try harder. And I know that I'm fat and disgusting, but I really don't need anyone telling me that... and then turning around and trying to cram another cake down my goddamned throat.

Don't be so fuckin' contradictory! Dammit, make up your minds and leave me alone. Really... just leave me alone.

Please.