I was going to message someone anyone I’m in that place but no rules I’m starting to learn like I’m going for a walk every day even if I do sit on a bench in the park and smoke and write stuff.

I’m trying.

I just don’t know how to do things. I don’t know how to motivate myself. Why would I do all that outside physical stuff when I have a Wasteland to conquer or a spaceship to explore.

I know I’m doing something because lacing up my yellow laces Doc Martens has become part of the routine like the opposite of trying to break a habit, I’m trying to create one.

I think, since ‘the incident’ I’ve been trying to change. I at least buy strawberries and try and do bananas sometimes but, I need a focus, I need someone to keep me on course, I need the kind of help I don’t want.

I still haven’t grasped the earthly reality of how scared everyone was when i threw up all that blood and gunky stomach lining whatever weird shit.

I’ve just rolled one, I’m supposed to be writing a diary of honest stuff but it took me so long to roll I don’t know what I was talking abou tnever mind what mood I’m in.

Can I even be honest with myself or is this how I am honest? I think this even though i can’t do the above adding up.

I don’t think I know who I am enough any more to be able to write an honest diary.

I don’t know who I am any more based on my own view, the hippy kid in the 80s knew a fuck tone more about me than I ever do now.

I’ve become so much more since then and outside stuff but I no longer see myself the way I used to.

I trust me now but i liked me back then.

Ooooh, I looked got all grrr and fuck you I’m pressing send and going for a smoke to change the mood from you because you’ll never fucking know until you die.