I’m fucking disgusted.

Since he died I rarely leave my cluttered little apt anymore. It’s hot as fuck in here right now. I’m naked- in front of my fan- on the bed- next to a cat. Like I am every other day.

I don’t do shit anymore. He knew I’d end up like this. With the exception that I eat. A lot. We both thought I’d starve myself as I usually do when I’m unhappy with my inability to control things. You know, because it takes a lot of control to resist eating food when I’m so hungry that it feels as if my stomach is eating myself from the inside out. Yes, it’s not easy. But I went another way for some reason. I’m not liking it though- I think fat is disgusting. And I’ve got 20 extra pounds of it now, all around my midsection. Ugly.

Regarding never leaving the house, I have to twice a week for methadone and necessities like cat litter and candy and e-juice.

I lost interest and I’m too hot and uncomfortable to write. And typing this crap on a phone is excruciatingly slow and annoying. So I. Am. Outta here!

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One comment

  1. Lydianon · January 29

    Dammit, I added a little text and of course now I don’t see it. Some of these editing apps are easy and intuitive. Apparently this is not one of them.

    Like

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