I am so good at giving up. Giving up on writing on this lonely little blog. (who the fuck is reading this shit, anyway?) Giving up on 1,500 calories a day (6,000 is music to my ears). Giving up on my new, part-time job. Giving up on every relationship I've ever tried to cultivate.
I flake, and I flake, and I flake.
Autumn is arriving, along with all of the holidays and all of the holiday foods and all of the holiday bulimia. My mother was driving me from a friend's house where I had passed out, drunk, yesterday morning.
"So the trays of marzipan, of cookies, of food for our guests that disappeared before they could even make it onto a tray? That was you?"
Of course it was. And I bite my lip and try not to imagine gorging myself on Halloween candy. I try not to imagine how easy it would be to purge six liters cranberry sauce. I try not to imagine how easy it would be to steal everyone's stocking stuffer chocolates. And I try not to remember my eighteenth birthday, my face caked in the vomit of my birthday cake. A princess cake for a true princess.
God, I love the holidays.
3 comments:
Hey.
Just stumbled across your blog today. I like your writing style.
Good luck.
I'm so awkward when I write comments, so I'll just trail off now.
@Randomlycoded
Thank you so much; it means a lot for me to hear you say that.
You're welcome!
Post a Comment