my ideal body weight is you on top of me.
My friends came and in lieu of the outdated flowers they brought data. Hard drives full of things for me to watch. They traipsed in and out. Twitey and Jack brought a milkshake they transported in a cooler bag. Lauren brought a game of Operation. Talia, a croissant and a copy of the newest Vogue. Michelle, a soy latte every morning. When at the end of the day they had all left, I lay down, tired, and enjoyed the way the bed felt like a magnet and I only half knew how to open my eyes.
I kept being told that I should write about this year, about being sick, just that I should write. So I started a new blog for that. I might be writing a book, but I’m probably not.