The taste in my mouth

Dear Zonk,

I’ve been trying, lately, to rate each day when it’s over. (So far, I haven’t managed a single day over 6/10.) And I’ve learned something about myself.

I am incapable of being objective. No matter how hard a day has been, a single happy event at the end of it will push my ratings up dramatically, and vice verse.

What matters, at the end of each day, is the taste it leaves in my mouth.

Yesterday was zingy. Like chocolate with crackly bits in it. Or like a fizzy, citrus-y energy drink.

Today tastes like lemon tea.

I’m happy with both.

Someday again, whole days and weeks will begin to taste good.
And when that begins to happen, I’ll know that I’m alright.

Love always,
K.

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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