Moving forward is hard, even when you have good people around you. Off meds for a while, back to alcohol and weed. Is it a wonder I'm lost again? I'm back to being afraid of wanting things. I'm back to be scared all the time. I'm back to sitting alone. Cut em off, part of me wish I could go def and blind too and be alone. That's too much, my feelings are just a projection. There is a joke I love about a man in a mental hospital because he thinks he is a giant piece of corn. After many years of treatment he feels better and his doctors arrange for his release (also a test). As he leaves he sees a giant rooster, upon seeing the rooster he turns and runs back to the hospital and the doctors. He breathes a huge sigh of relief as he re-enters the safety of the mental hospital. The doctor, truly astounded, says to the man "But you're cured! You no longer believe you are a giant piece of corn!" The man replies, "Of course I know I'm not a giant piece of corn, but does the rooster know that?" I am not cured of my projections. I don't know what you think and it doesn't really matter; because I think for you.