212
My existence is given structure by a set of truths. Three of these can be summarised as follows:
I am fat.
I am in pain.
I am angry.
These truths can be split open like a fruit on a tree. In each truth there are components which make it what it is.
I am fat.
I have a large, scarred, irregularly-shaped, partially-dimpled, porridge-coloured belly.
I have thick, outwardly muscled, inwardly chafing, bristly, firm, soft, strong, weak legs.
I have dry, inflicted, turgid, pink, overly-muscled arms.
I am in pain.
I have teeth which grind against each other in my sleep and bite my own mouth and tongue to shreds.
I have a spine with defects in the nerve and bone structure which give me aches.
I have a head which sometimes feels clamped until I want to scream.
I am angry.
I have a job which bores me sick while causing so much stress that my hair falls out.
I am largely considered inadequate at the endeavours about which I am passionate.
I failed at university, which even idiots seem to manage.
I can't seem to find a job which either pays well enough to quench my resentment or fulfil me enough to sate my sadness.
I can't connect with other people. I feel sub human. The last person I felt like I related with was fictional. And also an alien. Who eats humans.
This fruit has a name. It's called Misery. And it's fucking bitter. If it was growing in my orchard I'd chop the fucking tree down.
But it's not fruit that feeds a tree, is it? The fruits are the product and they regenerate each season. What I mean to say is these truths are true but that doesn't make them permanent.
All these fruits from from a tree with my name carved into the bark. The trunk and roots are made up of some truths of their own.
I am creative.
I am clever.
I am beautiful.
Each of these truths also has elements to them.
I am creative.
I write.
I sew.
I knit.
I draw.
I have a limitless imagination.
I am clever.
I learn fast.
I am capable.
I am eloquent.
I am beautiful.
I have a well-proportioned face.
I have a nice smile.
I have a good body shape.
I have good hair.
And these things are constants.
If I tend to this tree it will bear sweeter fruit. That's all I really have to say right now.
