I am so fucking chicken. GAH! Why must I be so unable to say what I feel? Fuck it, what I feel doesn't matter anyway. Never did. What I feel, what I think, it's just window dressing, loookie here at the depressed fat chick, gawk at her emotional overeating, now watch as she tries to talk to the object of her affection, see the coloration to her cheeks, a sure sing that she will soon flee. And there she goes, running off yet again, look at her go!