#aversiontherapy

Sunday January 25. 9:56pm

“Finishing eating apple pie and ice cream & chatting with Alex!”

It’s Sunday, so I give her major points for not folding laundry while doing it. Normally our Rule of 3 dictates she would be multitasking, but tonight she has abstained. How is this POSSIBLE? I’m assuming the only way she has accomplished this incredible feat is through Aversion Therapy. She got a rubber band and put it on her wrist. Every time she’s in the middle of enjoying a delicious swirl of melted ice cream, homemade crust, or good conversation, and she feels the urge to sort black socks, she pulls it back and slaps her wrist. Brutal, but effective.

We were told not to believe in absurd things. So when you told me you loved me, I knew to leave.

I quoted Kafka and you didn’t hear me — said something about cars and how ‘shit’s weak.’

I chanted Om in your eardrums and shook thistle out of your hair. Ten days slipped carelessly through clasped hands, seamless space.

Spring came like an anchor objectively placed in eighty—eight miles of ‘living in the moment.’