Sanity doesn't exist

I've been seeing a therapist for a couple weeks now.
Not because of my ED, but because I'm just crazy in general.

I thought I was doing well.
I hadn't cut in over a week.
I was wrong though.

If I didn't take it out on myself, I would take it out on him.
I don't want to do that.
He already thinks I'm crazy.
Mostly because I am.
I don't know why he's still with me.

He makes me paranoid.
It's not his fault.

I'll never be the only one who matters.
I understand that now.

There were so many people who loved me.
Only me.
And I didn't want them.

I have the one I want.
But he's not all mine.
And I can't stand it.

Karma is a mother-fucking bastard.
I'm not allowed to be happy.
My heart is proof.
My mind is proof.
My arm is proof.

So whats the fucking point?

getting there...

I passed my first goal weight of 125 lbs today.
w00t!
I am 124.8 now.
And I'm not going to fuck it up this time.

I really don't look any different from 10 lbs ago.
But it's progress, and I'll get there.
I'm hoping to meet my next goal of 120 lbs by the end of this week.
I think it's pretty do-able.

I'm massively cutting down on smoking, too.
Not because I want to, believe me.
I just can't afford to buy cigarettes anymore, and I hate the taste of these rolled ones.
I usually smoke over a pack a day.
Today, I had 10.

I also completely cleaned and organized the kitchen, today.
Pretty good, considering it was a disaster zone, and I didn't wake up until 9pm...

Tomorrow, I'm going back into the studio, hopefully I'll get a few more songs done.
Its easy to not think about eating when there's a microphone in front of your face.