Binge Eating

A friend killed herself.
For periods at a time, she wanted it.
She wanted to for so long.
She shared her feelings with the world.
They didn’t go away.
Her body turned on her.

This morning I felt like absolute shit after reading the news.
It took my brain five minutes to believe what I’d read.

Honestly, it’s all about survival.
When it’s bad, for me: binge eating. weed. writing.

So now I’m here… trying to avoid thinking sad thoughts, and about to regale you about how I tried to turn my day around.

In a miracle of miracles…

Page called and asked if I wanted to rescue a dog with her today.

I said, yes.
She would have wanted this day for me.

What’s better than binge eating and smoking weed?
(TBH, I ordered and ate: half a hot apple pie, half a hot fudge sundae, one nugget -they forgot the sauces—, half a vanilla milkshake -they forgot the strawberry mix—, while writing this.)

Again. What’s better than binge eating and smoking weed?

Picking up a ten month old dog that looks like this…