Several months into summer, Puck has found a new love interest. This is the journal entry of Lauren, whom he left behind. What with all the dancing they did in Glee, and some new medical treatments, she's slimmer. But she's still Lauren.

I hate that I'm so much bigger than other girls.

I hate that I'm not feminine.

I hate that when someone was saying to Rachel that she obviously didn't love herself, I thought "Why would she? Why would anyone love themselves?"

I hate that I don't understand why he hasn't contacted me in any way since we last met, ignoring my texts, phone calls and email. I refuse to be so needy that I'll keep trying to contact him.

I hate that that he is the one person I've ever met who I've felt wasn't judging me in the slightest.

I hate that he's the only person I've met who I could see myself spending the rest of my life with.

I hate that what I want more than anything is to curl up in his arms and not feel too big to fit there.

I hate that I put on such a bold exterior, so that no-one will see how scared I am.

I hate that I don't ever let anyone see the real, terrified, insecure me.

I hate that I rely so much on what other people think of me.

I hate that I don't see why anyone does like me.

I hate that I come across as so independent that no-one ever tries to give me a comforting hug.

I hate that I'm so big that no-one ever tries to give me a spontaneous hug.

I hate that when we go out, I'm always bigger than all the girls, and half of the boys.

I hate that losing weight has no effect on how big I am, because my bones are still just as wide and just as long.

I hate that even now I've lost weight, and my BMI is fine, and people say I look fine, I still look in the mirror and wince.

I hate that I want so much to be the girl that everyone turns their head to look at because she's so beautiful.

I hate that I will never be pretty.

I hate that I didn't believe that one girl, one time, when she said that I was.

I hate that that is one of the few memories I treasure.

I hate that I still don't believe her.

I hate that I have no self confidence.

I hate that I receive so few compliments about how I look that I remember each and every one of them. From when I was tiny, right up to now, the 'compliment' I receive most often is: "You never seem to stop growing! You're taller every time I see you."

I hate that even such bad compliments as that mean so much to me that I wear heels just to get some sort of non-negative comment on my appearance.

I hate that when people tell me I should love myself, I wonder what there is to love about me.

I hate that I need to know that people would miss me if I weren't here.