My fast has given me time to think about my views on food and what i do with it. I see no need to eat other than to sustain life, however, why is it that the harder we try to become perfection the more miserable we feel. I only eat what I know I need and I have learned to love the empty feeling and hate the full feeling. Nonetheless, I can't help feeling this isn't how it should be. Every morning I get up and measure myself and resolve to try harder. I wonder if even if I wake up thin with those perfect measurements, will I be happy then?
The other day I saw a girl and she was very thin, the exact amount of thin I am working for. But she only had an average face, not ugly but not really pretty. And I realized even when I reach my goal of being super thin, I probably won't be happy. Why is it we can never be satisfied with our bodies? I can't even bring myself to eat half a slice of apple without feeling regret...
In the long run will we ever be happy when we wake up?
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