I wish I had will power. True will power.
For very short spurts of time I'll eat a little better, or, at least cut out some of the worst items I'll eat.
I'll do good for a few days, a week, maybe even a month. Then I figure, I've been good, I can have, let's say, one can of soda. Or glass, whatever. But, then it'll go from one can, to one 2 liter, to one 12 pack. It's really bad.
In my mind, I am split. I eat what I eat because most of the time, it's the only happier feeling I get. That delicious chip, that tasty slice of pizza. So, if I eliminate that, or even change it just a bit too much, then what do I have left?
Then, on the flip side there is that part of me that just wants it all to end sooner than later. So, if I keep eating so shitty, at some point something in my body will give up. I've always joked, to myself, that the way I eat is a form of very slow suicide. It's hard for me to picture a bright light at the end of the tunnel I've been in for, what, a decade now? Maybe more. It really is. I still hold out that little bit of hope that if one thing changes, just enough, something will click.
Whether it be a certain job, finding some random hobby type of thing that just draws me in. Something to make me feel like this existence has a god damned point, you know?
But, maybe that's a stupid thing, in the long run, to hope for.
For very short spurts of time I'll eat a little better, or, at least cut out some of the worst items I'll eat.
I'll do good for a few days, a week, maybe even a month. Then I figure, I've been good, I can have, let's say, one can of soda. Or glass, whatever. But, then it'll go from one can, to one 2 liter, to one 12 pack. It's really bad.
In my mind, I am split. I eat what I eat because most of the time, it's the only happier feeling I get. That delicious chip, that tasty slice of pizza. So, if I eliminate that, or even change it just a bit too much, then what do I have left?
Then, on the flip side there is that part of me that just wants it all to end sooner than later. So, if I keep eating so shitty, at some point something in my body will give up. I've always joked, to myself, that the way I eat is a form of very slow suicide. It's hard for me to picture a bright light at the end of the tunnel I've been in for, what, a decade now? Maybe more. It really is. I still hold out that little bit of hope that if one thing changes, just enough, something will click.
Whether it be a certain job, finding some random hobby type of thing that just draws me in. Something to make me feel like this existence has a god damned point, you know?
But, maybe that's a stupid thing, in the long run, to hope for.
