Once he reached for something golden hanging from a tree, but his hand came down empty.

I found myself daydreaming about fruit again today. Biting into a nectarine, feeling the exact point where the skin breaks and bracing myself for the flood of juice down my chin, anticipating the pulpy flesh between my teeth. Pulling grapes off the stem, sorting through the bunch to find the particularly plump ones; the long green ones and the black ones with the same shape but a more flowery taste, the big red globes with seeds and the smaller purple spheres without. Scooping from a quarter of a watermelon with a spoon, all the way down until there’s no red left on the rind. Bananas, still slightly green and firm, plain or maybe with crushed Fritos on each bite, or sliced into a sandwich with peanut butter and honey. Prunes — I used to beg my mom to get me another package, that cardboard cylinder full of chewy, sweet delight didn’t ever last very long. Apples, cut in half, core and stem and that little bit on the bottom neatly carved out — Fuji, Red and Golden Delicious, crisp and full of flavor. Cherries bought from the nearby orchard, dark and rich and sure to stain lips and fingertips. Strawberries from the same place, delightful when eaten fresh from their green baskets, and even better after being sliced up and left to soak in a bowl with brown sugar overnight in the fridge and served with heavy cream for a breakfast treat. Pears, Bosc with their rough thick brown skin and D’anjou with theirs in thin smooth green, both with juicy, bite-right-in goodness.


It’s almost 2 in the morning on a Sunday, and the only food I’ve had in over 24 hours is a couple handfuls of trail mix. After I finish writing this, I’ll probably pour a bowl of Cinnamon Life, and hope that The Rabbit has enough milk in the refrigerator to use on it. Most of the time, when I eat a meal, it’s because I ask her to drive me down the hill to the two fast-food choices that are nearby (and don’t close completely by 8 or 9 pm) so I have a whole lot of Jack In The Box and Taco Bell. Often when I go to either of those — which would be nearly a 25-minute walk without her car — I get much more than I can eat at once, and finish off the cold stuff by my bedside in the morning. Sometimes when I’m already out of this miserable gilded cage I spend too much money on sit-down dining because getting a chance to savor a hot meal seems worth it… especially if I end up with leftovers that don’t consist of another cold burger with a stale bun or burrito with a soggy tortilla.

I don’t eat enough. I don’t get out much, because I can’t get anywhere on my own unless I’m paying $15 to $20 or more for a Lyft, one-way, in order to go… where? Mostly that ends up being coffee shops and bars, where I spend even more money that I can’t really spare to sit someplace I’m not thrilled about being, just so that I can be anywhere but here.

In less than a month, I turn 37 years old. That makes 4 years I’ve been stuck in this place; it was never meant to be more than 4 months after leaving the apartment I’d shared with MFP… but since returning from my trip to visit Lime and losing her in the process, finding housing has only gotten more difficult in the Bay Area.

It’s now been a little over 2 years that I’ve been seeing my current therapist, though I’m not sure if that will last; she’s raised some valid concerns about her own limits, and as the two of us have been working toward getting me some other kinds of support, she’s expressed that without additional help from outside, she may be putting in too much of herself, trying to give me what I need when it’s beyond her capacity to do so. I hope I don’t lose her; the fear of that actually spurred me to do some work towards seeking additional help on my own, which I’d been neglecting. It needs to be done.

There’s a chance that, in just over 6 months, I may be going to my first-ever rock concert. Not positive yet, but if everything works as I’m hoping it will, I’ll be taking Again with me to see Erasure in August. It’ll be on my half-birthday if it goes as planned, too!

But for my birthday, if you’re someone who might consider giving me a gift… feed me. And be sure to include some fruit with the meal!

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