Cut down on the booze.

yeah I know you know but really. The focus is there without it, harder to find but it’s there, trust me.

I’m still good for not needing the bad but I’m left talking to who else but me. Too scared to work out who else I can message nice or memory stuff to.

So what do I tell myself in the diary that I’ll never read?

Do I tell myself to stop drinking because I know it ain’t good or do I give a fuck?

Of course i don’t. I’m me. I’ll keep going untill I crash into a wall or someone tells me to stop.

I have a big beard and am growing crazy long hair. it’s not sensible for a me who needs to get a job when this malarkey is over but fuck your bollocks I have to ride this shit out.

It’s shit I don’t even want to tell me when I’m writing in my own diary. It is so fucking important that I don’t know what I’m doing when I’m doing it. And it’s the only truth I know about who I am.

I should do a year end thing want to [shush}

I’ve become more aware of myself and what I do and am really liking me in a weird way of still not getting why people like me but I do get it.

I still wish for next year I could go and get a diagnosis for my brain and have some labels to show off about and join a club or just know a medical word for what I am.

But I never will…what if she fixes me?

I’m a beautiful person and lots of groovy people see that, it’s enough

Maybe when i think I want a label, I actually just want an excuse?

I have a phrase in my head,

‘brains vibrating at the speed of sound’

…well done me for not being dead, you fucking bellend.

I mostly dig me even when I’m scared and we don’t need labels.