I wrote this poem just now:
To be truly happy or be wealthy
That's all you wish
that's what you dream about you see
And I'm not here to squish
I dream of neither joy or cash
I dream of neither love or things
I dream of stopping this crash
To be just truly is my yearnings
Yes, I realize it's crap. No, I don't care.
70 pounds in two months and now 10 in five. Something is wrong, and it starts upstairs. I'm so sick of writing about how I'm back, or how I'm doing this or doing that when it's all just a lie, a lie to myself. I am rereading my blogs from Day One and I don't notice a trend, I don't see a WHY or a HOW that had me so focused, so committed. It's like a switch was flipped on in May and off in August.
Did I mention I'm thinking about smoking again? I'm using the electronic one though, haven't broken down and bought a pack yet. I probably won't.
I know what I NEED to do.
I know what I SHOULD do.
I know what I MUST do.
I know what I HAVE to do.
I know what I WILL do.
I know what I MAY do.
Why don't I know what I CAN do?