Boob honks and frustration

Wanna hear something sad? The last person to touch me was some dude from the deli, some Rasputin greybeard with a bike helmet on. He passed me my tray and the bottom fell out, and we both knelt to pick up the mess. I reached for an egg. He honked my boob. Not on purpose, just, y’know. These things happen.

We didn’t acknowledge the honk. I stood back up, he finished cleaning, and he said “you want another, or…?” His hands weren’t dirty, and the floor wasn’t either, but the food was all muddled, piled on one side of the plate. I waved it away: yeah. Another.

A different guy brought the new tray, and I’ve not seen the honker again. Was I meant to apologise? Honk his bollocks to offset the shame? No. I think silence was right.

Well, that was a while back, and nobody’s come near me since. It’s strange, ’cause there’s usually something, a handshake, a brush-by, a hug. I don’t know. Maybe I smell bad. No-one comes near me, ah….

It’s just, the monotony…every day is the same. I wake up, check the time, and I go back to sleep. I wake up again, poke for aches and pains, lick my teeth, check for blood. My teeth score my cheeks in the night. They tear. They leave scratches. The blood pools and clots.

I get up and have breakfast, which is a bottle of Pediasure and an iron supplement and a fish oil capsule. I work for a while, and I send out for lunch, deli snacks, bubble tea. I keep working till dinner, which is the rest of my lunch, then I do YouTube yoga till I fall on my face. I’m rubbish at yoga. Total pants.

After that, it’s just evening, and there’s nothing to do. I try a game, read a book, but there’s no fun in any of it and I go back to work. That’s what I’m doing right now, or I will be when I finish this sentence, if I don’t think of something else to say….

I’m lonely and my teeth hurt.

Ee.

PS – Don’t take this too seriously. I’ve just got my knickers in a knot.

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