Fat

You asked me how I'm doing, And I told you I was fine. But I'm not fine. I'm less than fine, And I wish I didn't have to be here, Because I feel too down on myself, And I don't want to deal with all the people, And the thoughts of regret, The thoughts of myself, The ones that make me feel bad, And make me want to curl up and feel nothing again. I thought that these self-concious thoughts of myself, I thought they would change once I started to accept who I am, But they haven't. They're still the same. It feels like I'm still the same old me, I once was years ago.