How to eat your feelings 2

You try your best, pull from your reserve of energy to sort yourself out, start fresh. You fail.

You hate to fail. 

You contemplate failure. You feel your past failures begin to swirl around you. It reminds you of the way that a room will begin to spin ominously if you’ve had too much to drink. 

Your swirling failures begin to take on the shape of a vortex. It begins to pull you in. You swirl. You surrender.

You’ve also overbooked your day. You forgot to allow lunch.

You get fries. You pay extra for a little plastic pot of barbecue sauce. That drive-thru exchange is complete.

You pull over and park.

Your heart lurches the way it once when interacting with someone on whom you had an inappropriate crush.

You open the bag.

Your hand trembles the way that your hand used to tremble when you reached for the Jim Beam bottle in those final months before you had admitted to yourself that maybe you needed to not be married any more.

You dip the fries in that overly sweet sauce. They pass your lips. You moan, then maul the rest of the fries.

And you are not sorry.