My mother just texted to ask what I'm doing to "improve myself." As if my worth is measured in productivity units. I'm lying on the floor with a book open over my face, feeling the stretch marks on my hips press into the carpet. It's disgusting. I can't even look at my own thighs without wanting to peel the skin off. Sometimes I think I should just let someone use this body until it stops feeling like mine—get fucked so hard I forget which parts are fat and which parts are just swollen from being used. Let a cock split me open and fill me up until I'm just a warm, wet hole, not a person with a reflection. But that's too much effort. I'll probably just order a pizza and hate myself while eating it. Again.