Devil’s Throat

I spend a lot of time loathing.

Too rarely do I ever feel proud of myself – no matter what I do or what others say. And still, I love them – it’s like a hug I needed. And I’m grateful.

Today I don’t care and don’t want to talk. Exhaustion, headache and Cheerios. Where am I really, and where do I want to be? All I know is what needs to be done: buy more Cheerios and dry my socks.

The terrible noises of fire alarms and the sirens of ambulance cars are slicing my brain in two, the engine of proud motorcyclists and girl-like cries outside I hear almost every evening.

Mahler and Gade are playing in the background – creating peace of mind and drying the tears in the corner of my mind.

Next, I listen to Lacey singing when I’m in bed, and someone pops into my head. I keep falling for those I can’t read.

Courage and confidence only come together – but I didn’t feel that both were evident last night. When you are confident, courage is ultimately there.

It’s the first time I prepared myself some ginger tea since I’m here, disinfecting my body because of all the crap (as in snacks) that I’ve been eating. Nonetheless, my breakfast, lunch and dinner are pretty much healthy; it’s just all the inbetweeners.

The night before the reading, I couldn’t sleep. I got out of bed at about half twelve in the morning and started eating Cheerios, which was a huge mistake. I remained awake till about half two in the morning and got up at six. Ok, sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing – or I can’t control myself, which happens a lot.

Do I need a Paracetamol? I thought I was stronger than that. I shall go back to bed now.

Insecure about where I am, but I actually know where I want to be right now. No, not in Toronto.

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