After A Lifetime Of Silence,

Madness Will Push You Anywhere It Wants. It Never Tells You Where You're Going, Or Why. It Tells You It Doesn't Matter. It Persuades You. It Dangles Something Sparkly Before You, Shimmering Like That Water Patch On The Road Up Ahead. You Will Drive Until You Find It, The Treasure, The Thing You Most Desire. You Will Never Find It. Madness May Mock You So Long You Will Die Of The Search. Or It Will Tire Of You, Turn Its Back, Oblivious As You Go Flying. The Car Is Beside You, Smoking, Belly-up, Still Spinning Its Wheels.

I Do Not Remember Very Many Things From The Inside Out. I Do Not Remember What It Felt Like To Touch Things, Or How Bathwater Traveled Over My Skin. I Did Not Like To Be Touched, But It Was A Strange Dislike. I Did Not Like To Be Touched Because I Craved It Too Much. I Wanted To Be Held Very Tight So I Would Not Break. Even Now, When People Lean Down To Touch Me, Or Hug Me, Or Put A Hand On My Shoulder, I Hold My Breath. I Turn My Face. I Want To Cry.

In That Six Months, So Much Happened That Death Seemed, Primarily, Inconvenient. The Trial Period Was Extended. I Seem To Keep Extending It. There Are Many Things To Do. There Are Books To Write And Naps To Take. There Are Movies To See And Scrambled Eggs To Eat. Life Is Essentially Trivial. You Either Decide You Will Take The Trite Business Of Life And Give Yourself The Option Of Doing Something Really Cool, Or You Decide You Will Opt For The Grand Epic Of Eating Disorders And Dedicate Your Life To Being Seriously Trivial.

You Will Miss Her Sometimes. Bear In Mind She's Trying To Kill You. Bear In Mind You Have A Life To Live.

Some People Who Are Obsessed With Food Become Gourmet Chefs. Others Become Eating Disorders.