So I went to Cracker Barrel with Grandma and Grandpa today. That was a pleasant change of pace for something to do on my day off instead of sitting at home and watching shitty re-runs of Maury.

My grandma doesn’t like the sound of that ‘Atkins diet’ I’ve been doing. I explained to her that I was upset with my image and wanted to do something about it and so I could become stronger and healthier.

“So when you reach your goal, do you just go back to eating all the junk you ate before?” She asked.

“No, that’s one of the main points about the Atkin’s diet,” I explained. “It’s not really even a diet. It’s a way of eating and way of life. I can turn back, but I’ll gain more weight than I had before I began. And this whole thing isn’t difficult so I’m not really worried.”

Anyway who cares?

I started Induction over again, because I found out I did nearly everything wrong and I’m down to 145 (Don’t care if you think I’m fat anymore, because I’ll make sure I won’t be for long!). I’m 20 pounds away from my goal, and 7th grade size. God almighty….7th grade size. It’s still like a dream for me.

But I cut my wrists the other night. God, I really wish someone would see and actually care. I know that I'd probably freak people right the hell out.... Actually I know I already do. Why is it in the human nature to care anyway?

I know which came first, the chicken or the egg.

It's the chicken. God, Budha, Allah, whoever, wouldn't put a defenseless baby on this earth alone.

“Scar tissue the I wish you saw
Sarcastic Mister know it all
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you cause'
With the bird I'll share
With the bird I'll share
This lonely view”

Red Hot Chili Peppers
“Scar Tissue”