I’m not doing great today. In fact I’m still in bed and I feel gross. Salty, grimy, foggy – and that’s just on the inside.
Why have I nosedived into this heap of stinking gloom today? Seeing the Psych? Did I do too much yesterday?
Fuck it I’m annoyed with myself. I want to cut myself (why is it called self harm? Am I really doing that much damage?), I want to be sick. I was starving all morning laying in bed, I could hear my belly rumbling which of course to me is like church bells on a summer’s day, my body is eating away at its own fat and I can hear it! Go me!
Then My Lady brought breakfast in and I want to throw it up. I crave the discomfort of puking. Weirdo.
I had a lovely afternoon with a friend I hadn’t seen in years. She brought her little daughter who has the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen. We had an uplifting chat and I felt good, inspired by this Enthusiastic Educator to live and to laugh.
Then I called to The Librarian which was therapeutically cathartic. And cosy in front of the fire. FTF. X x
I was good last night as apparent in my Justin Timberlake tribute show. Now I’m a sharp edged, squidgy centred mess and I can’t move.