The Next Day

I smoked so much dope that, some time after it got dark, and I'd done the universe-only-knows-what all day, I got the munchies really bad. Suddenly, I was really hungry. I was in the kitchen in no time, my bare feet appreciating the heated floor, at the same time knowing that if the floor was noticeably hot, the heating had been on for days.

I ate fish fingers, drenched in lemon. I just tipped what was left in the box onto the tray. I didn't count them, couldn't count them. There was lots of yellow and silver. Then I had two yogurts. Followed by four slices of toast and jam.

I lay on my bed and felt like I wanted to be sick, a short time later, some what surprised at my behaviour - not so much at being hungry, as I hadn't eaten for twenty four hours, but my complete and gluttonous surrender to it.

I should do some thing today. Get out of the house. Breath in some fresh air. Step back into life.

I'm a bit dazed. I'll thank me tomorrow. Big smile.