This may be TMI, but if you weren't into TMI, you wouldn't be reading peoples blogs.

I couldn't sleep last night. I just kept thinking about my list. I kept thinking to myself that there is no way I can make myself do the things I've longed to do for so many years. If I had the will to do them, I would have done them already. Usually I am perfectly content with the imaginary life in my day dreams, but now I want more. The thought was making me ill. One of my biggest fears is realizing that my situation is my own fault. But last night it hit me. Fuck, it is my fault. I am weak. I am weak. I am weak. The words echoed in my head until I could no longer take it. I threw-up the contents of my sour stomach into the belly of my cold, white, porcelain best friend, numerous times. I then finally felt better. After I stopped shaking, I picked myself up off the bathroom floor and climbed onto the roof to stare at the sky. Nature just helps me think better. After a long and hard conversation alone, I said that I would forgive myself for not trying, trying to try, or pretending to try all these years, under one condition; I had to start ACTUALLY trying. I went the whole day today without that guilty feeling in the pit of my core. The sour stomach was gone. I like this feeling.