Posted: June 5, 2014 in Uncategorized

I am about to move from one end of my house to the other. From the brightly lit, dual-windowed corner that my computer currently calls home to a dingy, dark, windowless icebox with tile flooring and cold porcelain. I go there not out of choice, but necessity. You see, I was not given the option of choosing where I would mark my territory, it was laid out for me. Like a house-trained dog, I obediently retreat to this secluded corner, isolated from the rest of the world, and cross my eyes as I look for the repeating patterns in the floor tiles, or with the irregular blobs of paint that have formed on the wall. I have carved tally marks into it to illustrate the passage of time, but I recidivist continue to return to the cell again and again, as if I didn’t know any better. As if I couldn’t control it.

-A blog post about pooping, 2014


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