Crushed under their apathy that I have taken on as my own, I feel the dead weight of this city's shining flesh, it's clean corporate streets that we bike through on summer nights minds saturated in cheap bear and Carlo Rossi and sexual to do lists.
 

this is my wild mind i offer you this may night, the alley cat's mournful screaming below my window,all i can think of is bone and sinew, every cell of the night pulsating and how the heart must fe

Throwing out a life I was blessed enough to have is so wasteful and unappreciative, throwing it out because I'm too scared to feel and too acknowledge? That is such bullshit. And as of right now, it's over. What precious and limited time I have to learn, to create, to love and have fun, and to learn from grief and pain. That's how wisdom is aqcuired after all. Wisdom isn't acuired through denying our ugly feelings, but from feeling them through. Pain and death have something to teach us. And I am learning from this season, through observing the earth growing through it's cycle of death, rebirth, and bloom

yesterday was another day of bulimia hell.

As winter sets  and the temperature drops and the days grow increasingly shorter,

I find that in some wierd way the monotony of everyday life keeps me a float. Having to get up and out of the house keeps me from self destructing in some ways, and when there is an unexpected rift in that montony  and i end up hanging out at home it can turn into bulimia hell, like yesterday