That's not actually a word... I checked. Do I care?
I've been watching this movie and struggling with a tremendous compulsion to go to McDonald's. Big Mac. Fries. Coke. It's so frustrating. Such a big part of me wants to go. I'm torn between tying myself to the couch and kicking my ass out the door. And, oddly, the part that is kicking is the part that I want to win. How's that now?
The little devil on my shoulder - the one that thinks some grease would be the bomb - is telling me all the reasons why I should. It's almost like it's the being good that is driving me crazy. No pot since Sunday. No inebriation of any kind since Sunday. Other than when I was visiting my parents... no, including when I was visiting my parents, I have not been without some form of drug or alcohol for this long in a very, sadly, surprisingly long time. I'm lazing about on the couch but there is something inside me that is hopping, bouncing, get me something, get me stoned, get me some food, get me something to take away this boredom. Not that I will put the energy to good use and work on my resume or figure out how I'm going to pay for all of the debt. That would be silly. That would be totally unlike me.
I'm scared. I am afraid that I am going to be this fat (or worse) for the rest of my life. I fear that I will not find a good job. I worry that this hole that I have been digging for myself will soon close in on me. Huh. I have this deep down underlying belief that everything will work out fine, this confidence in myself, in the world, in karma and yet all of the doubt that I see in people's eyes is starting to do me in.
And I want to get a Big Mac. Is that so wrong? Would that be so bad? I am bored and I am lonely and I am going crazy and I know that food won't help it... in the long run... instant gratification? Yes, for a moment it would help. Sigh.
