There it is again! Blubber sloshing in my stomach, heavy liquid swaying up and down with my footsteps, nauseous, disgusting! A very distinct feeling, but it only comes when I walk up the stairs, and I must extinguish it! Is this how it feels to be fat? A chubber? Nothing I do changes the fact. I feel I could limit every day to a handful of cold rice, and spend the whole of that day sprinting away from exploding machine guns, and still steadily apply pound after pound of greasy flesh to this belly. By the time I escape Busan I’ll be a hutt, I’ll have lost my legs to evolution, and I’ll be slithering on my skin…no more pants, just a button-up shirt.