In some way, anything which gives me the slightest pleasure makes me feel guilty. There is almost this sense that I shouldn't be enjoying myself. But what is interesting is that, even knowing that there is an inevitable sense of guilt, or worse, a real world down side to enjoying myself, I still go ahead and do what I do. I KNOW that tomorrow, i have to be up and in a room I can't leave because I have to proctor SAT's. And I KNOW that I have been gaining weight and my overall health is not as good as it could be. And yet, even knowing that I'd hate myself, I ate like a pig. I ate what I shouldn't, and lots of it. I hid and ate like a rat who suddenly got his paws on whatever it is that rats love so much, but isn't as good for them as cheese. And I ate.
So now, I feel sick. i feel guilty. I feel dread, knowing that tomorrow, while proctoring, I'll feel sick. But I did it, and I can justify it to myself in a hundred different ways. Begin self loathing in 3, 2, 1 and now.
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