the hungrier I become the more picky I become. And then nothing sounds good enough to eat. 

calling my boss to ask for a raise. like the most uncomfortable thing. I’ve talked to him maybe six times in the last two years? I’ve never asked for a raise from this job because calling on the phone and following up with emails is so difficult. I just get shaky and out of breath. Can he hear my anxiety? I think i’m worried that somehow I am a terrible employee and they will wait to tell me until I want something. ick. 

// [26]//

i am moving and speaking
with a mouth that opens 
and presses together. It isn’t
more than that, it isn’t a body
that opens and speaks and wants. I
keep finding age crushed into the
edges of my skin, a worn elbow
and a sad marriage; I rub in cocoa
butter and wait for the body to move or
connect to before. As if before could fix
this and regret could undo. 

// [it’s glorious to give in so much]//

I only have therapy once this week (so i didn’t go yesterday) and I am the silliest wreck. but I go tomorrow and i have soft owl (who is soft!) and I am trying to remember to be kind and gracious to myself. which I don’t understand being so hard, but no self-judgment, ha!

remember: basic needs, other needs
(needs are okay) 

And instead of using these feelings as an example of my own skewed view, it simply makes me jealous of myself and still embarrassed for me now. If only I had seen that I was lovely before, if only I could be so lovely now. 

I know how it sounds and I try to not acknowledge it, but it is all I think. 

lately being on my period means lying on the couch in yoga pants with no shirt or bra on (because I am warm and lazy?) watching episode after episode of hoarders.