a trash sandwich from bullshit city

I am insanely stressed out today. I'd really like to dash my skull on the corner of something and crack my head open like an egg. However cowardice is the glue in my malformed tangle of a body, and hypocritical self-preservation the unfortunate bottom-line.

I just ate an entire bag of Craisins. Were I depressingly obese, this would be the point at which I stare longingly at the empty burger wrappers strewn like a wax-paper moat around my lazyboy and lament the loneliness that no amount of grotesque consumption can abate.

But I am crooked and waifish, and staring at an empty bag of semi-health snacks carries not the same amount of guilty gravitas.