Bad morning

What? What? What is it? I dreamt that I found a stray cat in a public bathroom and both of its incisors were hanging by a thread of tissue, so I scooped it up and started walking to the nearest animal hospital. At some point, the cat turned into a baby. And I was trying to change my shirt at the same time, into a yellow and green t-shirt that had some kind of odd, cryptic slogan silk screened onto it but I didn't know what it was but it sounded oddly cool. Anyhow, this baby. This baby just kept clinging to me.

I woke up feeling incredibly fat. Antidepressants fucking suck. You feel so great for the first few months, then suddenly, it's orca city and thirteen-hour cat naps. I said that I wouldn't let my weight bother me, and I won't let it bother me after this post, but goddammit! It sucks. It sucks not being able to wear jeans that used to fit you. It sucks to walk around feeling like you're carrying something strapped to your mid-section, like a parasite, like a hunk of meat that doesn't belong to you. This body does not belong to me, I think. It doesn't feel right, it doesn't fit.

This is just a bad morning. Don't ask me why, what happened, nothing happened. I couldn't find my driver's license. It's somewhere in the pile of shit that is my room. Thought after thought just spirals into this funnel of bad thoughts and worse feeling. I am quietly digging myself out of this funnel. I am going to listen to This American Life and pace. Then I am going to do some light groceries. Then I will go to the library before I go to my class. It's alright. It's going to be ok.

-I


Do not shame me for how I feel.