Written by the operative speck of brain in the crack of my bull

I am stuck in a volatile state of mind that would make me eligible for Prozac not for the first time in my life. I find myself eating incessantly, almost compulsively, upping two dress sizes in two weeks. Junk food mostly, if not, edible matter within reach/buying distance becomes my temporary source of sanity. I want to run away but my legs wouldn’t carry me far enough and I end up dreaming of the man I lost a very long time ago and remembering the silly promise we had that isn’t worth a single penny anymore. I am put down by the people who matter and surrounded by those who don’t, and I miss my black furball so much, I think I might be going insane.