it all starts with a dream. I find myself in a beauty room, full of drawers for the makeup collection I don’t have. and I have a computer there, I’m surprised to find that there’s a screensaver on it that consists exclusively of selfies taken in nude, or with my pants down, I somehow know that they were taken with a man, with an idea of a man, in reality I only know his name, but have never seen him. which is probably better, a safe unattainability. but I know he was there. magically my granddad appears and looks at the computer. the penny drops and I manically try to turn the screensaver off, but the more I try, the more it stays on. granddad seems not to care. the dream is over.

I keep thinking about it. and the dream from couple of nights before, when my brain decided to introduce a boyfriend, just to shake things up. to make me feel safer and more loved in a dream than probably the whole last year. I wake up and I don’t even remember his face, just how good it was to be hugged. the concept of touch starvation manifests itself more than ever these days.

on a day to day basis I like to think that I’m doing fine. (if you can call sweeping stuff under a rug “fine”. were this rug not a methaphorical one, I’d have a mound in my room. hashtag don’t mind the mound under the rug.) on the lazy weekends however I tend to fall apart. I lay on my bed on a Saturday afternoon and start thinking about the naked selfie thing. which leads to thinking about my body. which being a size that it is, is a slippery territory. and don’t get me wrong, I only have one plus size body that i have a problem with. sadly (?), it’s the one inhabited by me. I am super-supportive of every plus size girl out there. you all can rock every outfit you choose, any activity you want to, I am all there for that. I am a biggest fan of basically anyone other than me. which it would seem is an even bigger problem than my body. so I am thinking about those “risky” selfies I never took, with a man that doesn’t exist, and I am crying, a theme to every lonely weekend in past months. apparently i can’t be left alone with my thoughts. because I know that I will be alone. you’d say I can’t know that, maybe you’re right. but I know. with all aspects of my body I’m neglecting – I just know. I know that the flat I just bought and spend most of my days furnishing in my head, will be occupied till the end of my days by me and only me. maybe a cat, if I decide to take up this kind of a responsibility. perhaps this kind of loneliness starts in your head. I may be the perfect example of that.

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