At the end of the day, when you’re lying in bed, there’s nobody to blame but yourself. You lived your day. You made your decisions. You lived your life.
Nobody to blame, but you. Nobody to blame, but me.
I made those decisions, one by one, I made them. I put the chocolate in my mouth. I justified it with excuses. I did it. At the end of the day there’s nobody to blame but me.
I dream before I fall sleep. I make wishes, and promises and let my heart go where it pleases. It always goes to the same place. To that place, to my place. The place where size small summer dresses grace my body, with bright coloured bikini strings tied around my neck, where white tshirts are worn with jeans and most importantly it’s the place where my mind never wonders about my weight; not even a little bit, not even at all.
The promises, the wishes, the hopes all don’t matter. I can pray, I can wish, I can hope… but without the commitment, without that moment’s decision none of it matters, and the horrible thing is I know this.
I can’t complain any more. I won’t complain any more. Not to you, Not to myself. Because at the end of the day, when I’m lying in bed there’s nobody to blame but myself.