Or the mathematical management of mood
Fourteen.
Black coffee, no cream, saccharine – zero.
Apple – eighty.
Gum times three – fifteen.
Walking twenty minutes.
Was it only fifteen?
Fifteen.
Underestimate effort.
Overestimate indulgence.
Tipping the scales in favor of failure.
Lettuce, vinegar, no croutons, celery, less than zero, according to her, and she is winning.
Black coffee, no cream, saccharine – zero.
Ruinous donuts times two lead to pastry and candy topped off with a bubbling soda to stir the mix.
I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. I can’t tell.
It leaves violently the way it came.
I escape. I am saved. I am gone.
How many remain? How many remain? How many remain?
Two hundred? Three hundred? Better say three.
Better safe than what lies in wait.
Too tired now to worry I wander unnoticed through classes.
Sleep on the bus ride to home.
Languish. Rinse. Repeat.
Twenty-four.
An extra this triggers more of that.
Addition, subtraction, obsessification no longer appeals. No longer controls.
It all blends together, churning, taunting, peeling away my resolve in long dying strips.
I can no longer hold it all in.
I can no longer keep it all out.
I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. I can’t tell.
I return to the source of escape. Am I saved? I’m still here.
No longer a fix.
Nothing adds up.
Nothing subtracts quite right.
Nothing can balance this dizzying gluttony.
Then, out of nowhere a new cure arrives and I ride this wave over my own drowning glares into new now.
Numbers irrelevant, minimal, managed, and I am winning.
I am saved. I am calm. I am gone.
Inhuman victory smothering weaknesses, cravings – primal need.
Running and cleaning and chatting and chattering.
Crumbling to sleep before waking home.
Gun it! Rinse. Repeat.
Forty-four
Math doesn't matter though it’s always with me in case I may need it to manage my moods.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Sky blue. Red soil. Dog smiles.
Loving hands tethering keep me from flying away while I flail until wind dies down.
I have spoken my truth but sometimes I forget.
I have told all my secrets. No use for them here.
I have walked away knowing one look and I’d never be free.
Some moments my heart beats too fast too loud.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I am no longer under attack from my Self I remind my Self.
Flash-flooding memories sweep me off my ground.
I am buoyant, resilient, a swimmer.
Floating flying gliding home.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.
