My Pens Ran Out so I threw them at the Window and Decided to Screw Tradition

I stuffed chicken salad and coconut ice cream where my self-help practices belong. Then I got ready for a jog, pulling too-small shorts over my 3,500 dollar legs that have stretch marks from years in recovery from disordered eating habits. Ironic.

I have plans to change the world with my words, but tonight I walk down dark alleys covered in trash and barking dogs. The foundation has cracks. I am breaking open.

I planned to change the world today, to stick up for women and feed the hungry. I had plans to figure out where to live and how to make money. I had plans. I had plans. I sat on the couch and embodied Wall-E, numbing myself to the screen. I will give up my addiction to TV, I say. I have plans.

Truth is, I eat when I’m hungry and cum when I’m horny, call friends when I’m lonely. That is all I do. I breathe in whatever this experience is and blurt it out on the page. So be it. So it is.

Today, I masturbated to fem-dom lesbian porn. It was so hot I looked up “dungeons in America” and watched my romantic life as a professional submissive flash before my eyes.

Then I got hungry, lost interest.

When the day comes, where I have to leave all my physical comforts, when I can’t be reached by telephone, when home is where I collapse, I’ll have realized that most people are good. Most people are kind. There was never anything to fear.

Today, though, today I have dark purple and brown hair that was summoned from the trenches and chains of karmic past. It is the inheritance of a girl who begged me not to move on, not to move forward. She wanted me to be stuck with her. I was not ready for death.

And I sit here now with her hair on my head, to remind myself of the chains I bear…like my ancestors, like my karma.

Waking up to battle the mud of daily ennui is my reckoning. I will be quiet today. I will listen.

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