What is it about my mouth? Why do I think that shoving stuff into it is going to make me feel better? Less angry, less weepy, less massively fucking terrified? I got in from seven am spin and mid-term breakingly went straight for a Whole Nut nap. Since I got up I have eaten: a bowl of muesli and weetabix, a bowl of broccoli pasta, a breast of chicken, a bowl of rice, half a ciabatta with melted cheddar, a bagel with ham and another bowl of muesli and weetabix. There's mostly likely a whole load of other stuff too that my over-carbed brain cannot recall. But I still have a gnawing rumbling in the pit of my gut. I know that it is not hunger. It is fear. Fear it is that needs feeding today.
I'm glad there are no cigarettes in the house. I wish there were cigarettes in the house. I need to keep going with the oral fixation but if I eat so much a mandolined slice of carrot I am going to fucking hurl.
I'm going to try a glass of water and another little cry.