![]() I spent four hours in child’s pose, crying, putting my hands on my heart, and taking deep breaths. That’s the difference between living and dying for me: feeling this instead of using my body to disassociate from it, wrapping my arms around my torso instead of forcing it to subsist on a diet of its own organs or cramming it with crunchy Skippy. A few weeks ago a great actor I love in New York died from the virus. I masochistically ruminate over my mom dying twice as often as I vacuum, which is constantly. I torture my cellmate (ie: boyfriend) for the crime of loving me, sometimes before my first wee. I wake up with anxiety. I’ve made barely any money in nine months and I don’t know if I ever will again. This is what isolation mostly looks like for me now: I pray to Dieu every single day that she removes my urges to control my body and food. Dessert(s).Ĩpm: Three more desserts while instant messaging boys I had a crush on from camp.ġ0pm: Eat my family, listen to sad love songs in bed, and fondle the rolls of my body. Noon: Sprint down the staircase to lunch, oh my god it’s Munster bagel day!!!!, fill several trays with plates of food - tuna salad, carrots for healthy?, granola with chocolate milk, some of that penne with marinara to switch it up. Frozen yogurt machine, more frozen yogurt, frozen yogurt with Cap’n Crunch.ġpm: Learn about white people. Simone has peanut chews!Ħpm: Two dinners while watching Friends. ![]() Mid-morning snack: 6 sugar cookies, scan the room for someone else eating candy I could forcibly borrow. Go to school and grab four hot rolls with butter from the cafeteria before class.įirst period: “borrow” some candy from Emma’s pencil case. Eat two heaping mountains of cereal with milk.
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