i'm sorry that i compared you to moldy food.

i mean, it's like, it's like that. yeah, like that. like you fell down when you were 8, and you still have the scar, like some angry monster on your left knee cap. it follows you to your first date, and your senior prom, and it meets a new friend the first time you crash your car. and you almost put your head through the windshield, but instead, you just trip over an old box and it's somehow 50 times worse. it's funny how life works like that, like, 'oh, i just fell 9 feet out of a tree and i laughed when i hit the ground.' but i mean, then you look back 11 years later, and you realize you probably started laughing because you were in shock. but when you're 8, shock doesn't really exist. unless you're horribly unlucky. then shock exists.

i guess that's the way it always goes. i mean, i guess after all of that time trying to slide home it turns out i missed bases 1 through 3. how does someone do that? it takes skill, i guess. it takes focus to be as oblivious as this. it seems like i'm so quick to throw away slightly rotting food, without realizing i can just cut the mold off and it will be fine! but i still throw it away, and THEN i realize i could have saved it. but it's too late, because it's already in the garbage, along with the kitty litter and old coffee beans. that's my life i guess, and those are my relationships. 'give up before you regret it, emma!' i tell myself 'you will get food poisoning if you try to save that bread!' well, as it turns out, i've never gotten food poisoning. but i mean, what's so wrong with food poisoning? you're sick for a day, you're puking everywhere and you want to die, but then it's over. and you go to work the next day feeling more or less normal. isn't that a lot like being left? it is. i've never been left, because i make sure to leave first, but it always feels like i've been left after the fact, mostly because i can't retrieve what i left. either way, i puke for a week, and i can't eat or sleep, but then i'm okay. and i go to work, and i'm okay. i'm really okay.

i mean, there's always that aspect of smelling the food that made you puke and then you feel sick because it reminds you of puking. there's a name for that. anyways, that's kind of like when i smell someone on the street who smells like you and then it reminds me of leaving you, and i feel sick for what i've done. but i guess lucky for me, nobody smells like you. because you wore that really great cologne that they don't sell in America. and i don't think anybody's armpits smell the same as yours. they smelt like that weird Addidas aerosol deodorant mixed with your body odor. i mean, i always told you you smelt bad, but you really didn't. i think i need to get back on topic. i'm lucky because no one smells like you, or looks like you, or walks like you, or sounds like you, or dresses like you. but i find other things to remind me, so i always end up sick. and i think i'm going to be sick for a long time, because i don't wanna stop reminding myself, i think i deserve to feel sick all the time.