I am at that point where I am having drug dreams. Like I see the drugs. I can smell them. I want them. I crave them. My subconscious wants it.
So I binge all the food I am not suppose to have to fill that need. That urge. I need something to fill it. Anything.
I also should saw it is not just the drugs in the dreams. There is also alcohol. The best of the best. Every thing. I have a problem. A horrible disgusting problem.
So I fill it with all the food I can’t have because of a medical problem. That was as funny as it seems was caused by my bulimia. I am not sure anymore.
I am trying. I am trying to fight the addictions. Fighting the demons. Fighting my mental illness.
I am trying to hold on. Be strong. Do the right things. To try to fix all the wrong. Try to straighten this path I was on.
I know I am in shitty place. I am working on the self esteem. I am trying to fix it from the bottom to the top. I am trying to pick myself. Pick up my self esteem up from the ground.
Prove to myself I am worth being alive. Prove to everyone I am trying.