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Lockdown bleed

I paced. Do I do this in the bedroom with the fear of someone in the house of lockdown disturbing me. I could block the bedroom door with a chair? Yell at the kids not to come in? How have I gone from space to no space?


The bath. Space.


With a scent of ammonia in the air, I laid out the fabric on the bathroom floor, a not distant enough YouTuber educating my kids on MineCraft, this moment did not feel like a special moment.


Sinking into the bath my mind began to go to my belly rolls. I shouldn't have eaten that toast this morning, I feel bloated now. Why do I do that? Why do I say these shitty things to myself? Give yourself a break. You ate toast. Well fucking done. You fed yourself.


Floating.


Dream.


Escape.


Cold.


Listlessly I reached for the pot I had poured my blood in. I dropped my moon cup on the fabric. Accidental or intentional. I was disappointed with the lack I felt and it shows.


My truth.





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