I ate a big bag of candy all by myself. I can’t believe I ate the whole bag. At the studio, I was all by myself. Me and a big bag of candy. Afterwards I could not even move.
Just typing and typing. I’m not even supposed to eat sugar really, on account of what it does to me. I got the sugar rush, I was eating these candies, one at a time, two by two, non-stop. Just kept on typing. I was all by myself.
Looked at the empty bag. I can’t believe I ate them all. Oh my god they’re so good. Zzzz, they’re hot. Shouldn’t be eating these, it’s like pure sugar. Sweet and hot. Half an hour later, I realized I’d been lying on the studio couch for half an hour. Ohhh sugar.
I just crashed. I couldn’t move. The whoooole bag. Little red cinnamon hearts. I love those but I shouldn’t eat them. Let alone all of them at once. I have a heart-hangover. I am love-sick. I fall off the couch and roll around on the floor.
Love, love, love. “I will always be lonely; I am best so.” You can go to the bulk barn and scoop them into a bag. Hard little cinnamon hearts. I’m all by myself. Shake the bag; it’s definitely empty. Oh I am going to cry. Sugar loves me but it wants to kill me. I’m sprawled out on my back on the floor. I can’t move. My lips burn with sweet love.
I drag myself into the bathroom. Burning. I spit into the sink. A hot red glob of cinnamon and saliva. I half-expect to see a tooth in there. Childhood memories sizzle somewhere below my blood-sugar level.
It’s too late. It’s all over.
So I drink a litre of milk and put on my coat and go downtown, and life becomes all wonderful.