Disgusted with myself.
How could I let that happen? How could I be so weak?
I had to go to the Post Office to collect the Children’s Allowance and I wanted the street to develop one of those giant sinkholes to swallow up my repulsiveness. The photo attached is the crack in the floor of Tate Modern in London. I have a photo of this that I took myself somewhere but I’m not really up to trawling through my digital life to find it. Imagine making art out of a crack? Well I guess I’m trying to make something out of the crack in my mind, even if it’s not very artistic. Every person who walked by felt like my accusatory nemesis: a cloaked judge deeming me unfit to share the same pavement. That old apologetic feeling of not being a viable human was/is back.
My body is going into spasm. Mini nerve earthquake aftershocks like you get when when you’re so nervous you can’t control your body. I’m getting a migraine and I want to throw up. Maybe I’ll lose a pound or two if nothing else.
I’m trying to just be today. That’s all I can manage.
I need a shower. But I couldn’t be arsed. If I can just make it through to tomorrow morning maybe a new morning will bring some sort of resolve to at least wash myself.
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