Food 🥘 I love eating. I love cooking. Food Network... that can stream ALL day. I’ll try anything once — like grilled octopus 🐙... once was enough 🤣
So, here I am, on a continuing quest for better health, wellness and fitness and thinking I’m eating pretty damn well. Except- according to calculations, I’m not consuming enough macros and calories for the goals I have🤷🏼♀️. Our cells need to be fed well to function and I’m now upping my game to see how I can make these changes 😎 stay tuned - it’s all about the macros! Fats will be my friend 🤓 1666 calories a day 😬 let’s pray it’s stuff my kids will eat, too!
To the one who is not here,
The best part of this letter is that you’re never going to read it. The worst part of this letter is that you’re never going to read it.
I keep coming back to you because you’re that one person who brings out the numb, confuse, and filled with rage bit.
We are so broken, feeling everything at the wrong time, but at the right moment, we go quiet.
Frankly, I don’t think about you that much. I keep myself busy and that really helps. but in truth, it’s an escape.
You’re both my safe haven and torture house.
But what do I know about anything? I’m a fool in love, refusing to get over you, to start again, because it’s so hard. It’s exhilarating and hurtful to even consider putting someone else where you once lived. But you did that, didn’t you?
That was a surprise. I was drunk when you told me. And then, I wanted to run away. That’s the real tragedy – we never can run away from our demons.
The sensible part of me kept saying that it had to happen. We’re apart. I say fuck it. My sensible part has never helped me write. It has only helped me at work.
I have so many questions. Do you sing for him, too? Does he know about me? Do you still have the rose that I gave you? Does he love you better?
I may be losing my mind. Once this letter is done, I’ll stand in front of a mirror, search for tears, beg myself to cry, to have a breakdown, but nothing of that sort will happen. Instead, I will just hold myself, whisper that I’ve to stop becoming a mess, I’ve to stop going back to you, and I ought to move on, and then, it’ll all be numb, again.
When I tell you things, you say I’m wrong, that I’m never going to grow up. Tell me, what do you mean by “Grow up”? Does it mean to forget you? Does it mean I stop trying to open up to you? I am confused.
I want to blame you but I don’t know if it is my place or not. I love you with the bottom of my heart..... #sketch#thoughts#me#faith#love#penart#tired#quit#feelings#Passion#art#design#doodle#drawing#ink#face#life#drowning#illustratorsoninstagram#pencil#penandink#artistoninstagram#dream#happiness#sketch_daily#illustration#diary#draw#blackandwhite#mymoodlifters