Cycle of self-destruction

Sometimes I feel like I can do it, like it all means something.

Like maybe one day I won't weigh 170 kilos.

Like maybe one day I'll walk past a pretty girl in the street on a mildly windy day, sweep back my hair, and she'll be so struck by how god damn handsome I am that like in a terrible movie, time for her will slow down, and I'll continue walking, in slow motion, the epitome of cool. I want to, just once, have that effect on a woman.

Then I realize that I haven't left the house this weekend, the only liquid I've drunk is coca cola, and that all I've eaten is bad carbs. As this sinks in, I start thinking about how much of a dumbass I am, about how because of behaviour like this all my hard work means nothing.

Then I eat some more, and think about nothing for twenty minutes.

This is my thought process. This is my pattern of self-destruction.

How the hell do I beat something like that? How do I stay positive?

The hardest time for me is in the evenings, when I get home from work,  and in the weekends, which is silly, because that is when I actually have time to cook, but for some reason can never be bothered, and often I fantasize about all the fattening foods I want to eat but SHOULD never touch, sometimes to the point where I pick up a phone and actually order them.

Food is my drug, my addiction.

But unlike most junkies, who will swear they need the smack to live, I really do need food to live. I'll never be free of it, of this need for it.

And that scares the hell out of me. I feel... helpless, powerless, like I'm just in the middle of some nightmare that I can magically wake up from.