Here is the thing I built up.
And here is the thing I want to destroy.
Parts of myself that collect pain and fashion a keen bladed sword.
I slash myself to bits.
Or bites.
Or bytes.
Small dissociated pieces.
A meal consisting of food that's compartmentalized in a shiny red lip lacquered bento box.
Food on your plate that doesn't touch!
I will never be convinced that I am loveable in my entirety.

Time for this month's downward spiral.
See you when I hit the bottom.