desire, despair, delirium
Jul. 21st, 2004 01:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verbicideMore than anything else in the world. Right now. I passionately want to eat an entire bag of Hershey's Caramel Filled Kisses.
And I could. Quite possibly without pausing to remove the foil.
Afterwards I'd likely vomit and feel ill. But I could do it. And GOD I want to do it.
But I will refrain from Death by Chocolate.
I will quietly sip the last diet pepsi in the house. Behold my noble countenance.
I will pet my kitty, because he is a good kitty and I am clinging to him as I am clinging to my last dregs of sanity. I have no idea what I would do without Hobbes. Yesterday, born of my general malaise and anxiety, I had a mild panic attack that Hobbes was going to die.
Yes, he's 15 years old. He's in fine health; the vet was startled when I told her how old he was. But Calvin died so unexpectedly. Sometimes I see Hobbes lying around a bit too much in this heat, and I freak out. So Hobbes tolerated some hysterical fawning attention yesterday. Then we sat in my closet together a bit. He was very excited by this. We both have a weird affection for contained spaces. I mean, I'm mildly claustrophobic in elevators and such, but like Hobbes, I like sitting in boxes. There's something very comforting to me about contained spaces. Being able to feel my surroundings. I've always preferred small apartments, cozy rooms, etc.
However, I like my personal space. So back off, okay?
And I could. Quite possibly without pausing to remove the foil.
Afterwards I'd likely vomit and feel ill. But I could do it. And GOD I want to do it.
But I will refrain from Death by Chocolate.
I will quietly sip the last diet pepsi in the house. Behold my noble countenance.
I will pet my kitty, because he is a good kitty and I am clinging to him as I am clinging to my last dregs of sanity. I have no idea what I would do without Hobbes. Yesterday, born of my general malaise and anxiety, I had a mild panic attack that Hobbes was going to die.
Yes, he's 15 years old. He's in fine health; the vet was startled when I told her how old he was. But Calvin died so unexpectedly. Sometimes I see Hobbes lying around a bit too much in this heat, and I freak out. So Hobbes tolerated some hysterical fawning attention yesterday. Then we sat in my closet together a bit. He was very excited by this. We both have a weird affection for contained spaces. I mean, I'm mildly claustrophobic in elevators and such, but like Hobbes, I like sitting in boxes. There's something very comforting to me about contained spaces. Being able to feel my surroundings. I've always preferred small apartments, cozy rooms, etc.
However, I like my personal space. So back off, okay?
