In the evenings I sit in front of the telly waiting to feel hungry while the cat scratches my arms, hungry for human flesh. This lack of appetite worries me. And even when it strikes I have no impetus to eat. There is nobody to make sure I eat – unlike Solomon, who has his father cut up terrifying lamb chops into tiny bits. I try my best really. And I’m not complaining. We had lunch at Da Paolo’s today – I ate enough slices of fresh, aromatic pizza (absolutely beautiful – I avoided the smoked pork. Poor pork! Poor piggie!). And I laughed genuinely, lightly, enjoying the sunlight, the lazy lunch. I haven’t felt so, so light for so, so long. And it’s all thanks to Prozac. Only it gives me a dry mouth, a slight headache at times and takes away my appetite when the darkness cloaks in.
Filed under: belljar
