Tonight I made fried polenta, warm garlic mushroom salad with lemon dressing, confit onions and chicken and some guac. No one wants it.
Urgh. Only the thought of a bunny sipping tea will make me feel better.
I just don't have the motivation to post at the moment. Everything feels efforted. I feel bland and flat. It's usual.
It's auditory.
It's all in my head.
Shut up.
I'm pretty sure that I'm stopping eating in favour of suicidal past-times, such as heavy drinking, heavy smoking and purposeful walking into oncoming traffic.
Good times. Just don't tell the vicar
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