Time

Im sat here with time on my hands. Loads of the chuffing stuff. Time to fuck up or time to fail, time to succeed and time to fly. Im at a really pissin' annoying part in recovery where the decisions i make now are the ones that really matter. OK, that first sandwich and first slice of pizza was a ball ache as far as decision making goes but now i have to decide whether or not to sustain this. To keep it going. That would sound like a really easy decision for a normo to make; do i starve myself to within an inch of my life again or leap in to the unknown and carry on doing this when i don't know where its going to lead. There are promises of a better life but when it comes down to it, my head is still in the 'i need to be thin for life to be better' frame of mind and i don't know how many weeks and months of diet plans and forkfuls of food it is going to taketo change that. ] I miss blogging. I don't even know why I'm writing this because i don't feel like people read what i have to say anymore. all i know is that I'm finding this much harder than I'm letting on and i guess i just need to verbalise that somehow. I guess this is how i choose to do it. to post or not to post...