Survival of the fittest, the wittiest, the cutest, the toughest. Makes me feel like dancing…scratch that. Makes me feel like puking. PUKING. I MAKE MYSELF sad. Torn. Little tattered pieces of a girl.
Little tattered pieces of a once happy heart. Shriveled up and withered like an image of my art. How to feel? How to heal? I’m not sure I want to. I’d rather fail right now. It feels more wholesome, somehow.
I’ve been really, truly sick for a couple weeks…just coming out the other side. Put real clothes on yesterday, walked around outside today. Still sickish and weak, but I ate jello with apples. It was a lovely shade of strawberry red. Tasted like childhood.
A few more feeble steps tomorrow, I’ll be all better. Will I?