Discussing Weighty Matters

My blogging has dwindled of late. You may have noticed. Let me assure you (as I have in previous posts) that I have my reasons.

I am going to try to explain those reasons now.

Sigh. Listen, it isn’t that I don’t love you, because I do. You know that, all the time we’ve spent together, the long walks, the phone calls… it’s not about that, you have to believe that.

It’s just… that… see… um…

Yeah, that’s not working. Let me try another tact.

So, there’s stuff I really can’t tell you about. Like, for example, [–REDACTED FOR YOUR PROTECTION–], and [–REDACTED FOR YOUR PROTECTION–]. You know, the really [–OMITTED–] stuff.

But I do try.

[ ASIDE: ] The strangest thing about this moment is that I find myself wanting to write. Honestly, when I started this whole “bloggy” thing, I was convinced that in three weeks we would be looking at a withered stump of a blog — four posts spread out across twenty days, with declining interest and nothing inspiring.

But, here we are, just over a year later, and I’m actually getting more interested in the process by the day.

So what the fuck do I do when the topic is too personal? I mean, do I really want the entire Interweb knowing that [–OMITTED AT THE REQUEST OF THE VATICAN–]? I mean, that’s some pretty [–CENSORED–] stuff!!

No! No I don’t! But… I want to write about it! WTF?!?!

Not sure. Whatever. [ /ASIDE ]

The short version is that, as I’ve mentioned, my relationship with food fucking blows.

And, over the last few months, I’ve stumbled onto some rather startling… life-changing… things … that have led to my colleagues saying things like “Ye gods, man, what, do you have a wasting disease or something?” and “Hey, stick-boy! Over here!”

I welcome this strange, new world with frank astonishment, because I can assure you, it is not some new injection of willpower or self-discipline that has caused this change. No friends. It is, instead that I fucking asked for help.

Like, really, actually, for reals this time. I have come to understand what the word “plea” means. Also “begging for your life”. Turns out you can eat yourself to death, and at this point I have some passing familiarity with what that road looks like.

I think I finally asked the right people for help. I hope so, anyway. Point is, after what I would describe as a long, thorn-strewn road, I’ve been sane and happy for like two whole weeks, and that is a bit of a shift for me. I’ll keep you posted on my progress; right now I’ve misplaced at least four 5-pound turkeys that I’ve been carrying around in my belly for the last year. I’m not entirely sure where they went, but they are certainly gone.

If you’re curious and want more data, just ask.

Published by

the_darklorde

I design.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *