I haven't been writing for fucking ages. I've just been shitting. Like shitting like big time. I've just been feeling sorry for myself for shitting big time. I've been lying on the bed unable to sleep contemplating my shitting: it's consistency, looseness, colour. I've been taking iron so the woman at Halfords said it's normal for my shit to be darker. Is my ass going to turn darker, I ask her. Yes, I suppose, especially if you don't wipe properly, you know front to the back, front to the back, smooth, smooth movements. I've been sad for a bit like what is this really all about, like I've got a book out and so what, such an anticlimax, such a fucking anticlimax. 'Have a launch party', yeah you have a launch party my ass, who's going to organize it my ass. Like I hope giving birth, like giving actual birth is not such a fucking anticlimax, I mean. I'll never know anyhow, cause I hate children, but you know, as far as I'm concerned giving birth to that shitty book of mine was a total anticlimax, I thought you were supposed to like have an orgasm when you give birth or something, well, no one found my fucking g-spot. My acupuncturist asked whether I've been through grief recently. I said, yeah, my auntie died. Which is not true of course, but it's felt like a massive death in my heart, like a massive, massive death, or someone crying. Like someone crouching in the corner quietly crying. Cause I was too embarrassed to admit I'm a fucking privileged prick who has everything and is totally totally unhappy, totally totally miserable in bed for 6 fucking weeks crying. Like totally totally miserable not being able to lift my legs, dreading the staircase, palpitating in the pavement, sweating at the thought of the upper deck, feeling totally totally sad and miserable, but also totally totally embarrassed about feeling totally totally sad and miserable. And then a window opens. It's not big and there is a jasmine on the seal. And someone says something about the future and I don't vomit for the first time in weeks. I can keep my food down and it doesn't take ages to fall asleep. And I start feeding myself. I start feeding myself like a mother, like a father, like a perverse ankle or an auntie that has died. And I start feeding myself like I've never fed myself before. Like I've never ever tasted good before. Like I have sausages for breakfast, lunch and dinner, beans for supper, farting everywhere, farting and shitting all over again. I eat more sardines I could possible dream of and falafel every two days. And I realize that I've been starving myself for years, that my body needs to eat, that I've malnourished myself like a horrible mother. 

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