January 2020
And then they went after the lunch menus:
more junk food, less grapes and peas & carrots.
This never-ending-pissed-off ocean wave of news, punching me in the face, sucker-punching me in the belly, brushing my thighs, losing my balance, another wave–daily, minute by minute, unending.
3:11 a.m.- me: “Please…You have to stop!”
I am assaulted, violated, paralyzed, unable to breathe.
Sometimes it’s that one thing.
That one thing.
One thing.
Thing.
Don’t touch this one, I may not survive.
