I had a dog once...................... He

when i think about you i touch myself

When I think about your in-laws, I touch sandpaper. I can't remember faces, but I have been able to recognize people through textures. My therapist feels like dandelion fluff.

I realized textures translated to people when I tripped on the farm and my hand landed right in the middle of a fresh pile horse shit and suddenly I thought of

Marcy because she'd just broken my heart. She was with Bret. Laughing, in the convertible that I bought her. Driving through Laguna and here I was, on this crappy farm.

I picked up two oranges and hurled them against the barn wall - Marcy and Bret's heads. MY Marcy & Bret's heads. I got in the truck throwing my shotgun in the back. My sweet Marcy

and my sour Bret. Chinese takeout would never taste the same again. I gathered their heads and the oranges and headed back into town, but had to pull off as my sobbing obscured

The true meaning of the moment: I could no longer eat Chinese takeout food. My mum said there were other places I could eat out at, and that I needed a change. It was long overdue!

I had not even left the house to buy a new bra and had to fashion one out of two Chinese Take-out boxes with their handles entwined, which looked odd under a sweater, but offered

structure and support in a place I hadn't had either for a while. Bonus: it smelled like sweet and sour sauce and over-fried noodles, comforting both. I could take on anything now.