today was a filler day. but i reached 50k words, so i must tell myself that today was productive. if i were a natural disaster i think i would be a tsunami, because some things would stand and some things would fall, and the seagulls would all be okay

i get so hungry in the winter. when january comes i buy myself those little oranges. tear open the red mesh, tear into the orange flesh. peel the skin off in one long strand, like something very serious will happen if it doesn’t come off all in one piece, thank god these little ones are bred to be easy to peel. anyways. by the time the oranges are in the bottom drawer of my fridge the winter hunger will have kicked in. i eat and eat and im still hungry, drifting between the fridge and the freezer and the cupboard. nothing tastes good; nothing appetizes me; my stomach gone bottomless, just this resident hunger. i think if i were a natural disaster i would be a famine. nothing can satiate me.

nothing really belongs to me. not my suffering. not my body. not my voice. did you serve your purpose? did you channel spirit? did you pleat the fabrics of space and time to transport us into now. ever intangible, blind spotting now.

i am constantly fighting myself for focus. i am constantly afraid that people will see how strange i am, that they already see it, that it’s just an open secret well-hidden from me. a few months ago a muscle in my eye began to twitch. last week, a muscle in my back. today, a muscle in my forearm. my body rejecting something physically; maybe rejecting me.

you really just get older and adopt facets of your mother’s decor decisions and grow like a snaking vine on the forest floor.