I am weak. I am sad and the Oreos upstairs offer a chocolate haven from emotions. I want to feel the bitter taste of cocoa melt on my tongue, giving up to the softening ways of milk. I want to sift through the chocolatey mess to find that sweet, sugary inside. I want those fucking Oreos. I can't. Only three is a serving of 160 calories. I'm to fat to eat, consume, that much crap. I know I can't eat just three.
I can feel the control. Now, as I take another sip of water, I can feel the control. As each minute passes, i can feel it slipping through my fingers like sand, marking the amount of time I have before I break.
If I eat those Oreos, I will not be able to reach my goals. I will be a falure. If I can't keep myself from eating sugary crap, how will I ever be able to make myself loose those ugly, disfiguring pounds of flesh, of fat? How will I be able to make myself earn good grades in school? How will I be able to get to college, Emerson, if I can't reach the simplest, smallest goals of self control.
I am not a failure. I refuse to loose control. I am strong. I will reach my goals.
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