Seven Days Book Day 7 - Vital Signs Sustaining Meal

Is cooking your own meals (including instant noodles and coffee) a daily routine or something special for you? Write a story about cooking.

I have an unknown self-flow theory called the "half-meter-square theory." This theory believes that the objects within a half-meter radius of the place where you usually stay constitute the person and are the integral parts of the person. A radius of half a meter is the range that a person's arms can reach. It is the most controllable and intimate area for people.

Within a half-meter radius of me were teapots, compressed biscuits, knives, vodka, cigarettes, and psychiatric medications.

Among them, the only food is compressed biscuits.

I'm someone who doesn't cook very often. I hate cooking fumes, hate washing dishes, and am afraid of the sound of frying.

I would only cook for myself because I was strapped for cash. However, being short on money often means being short on available time. When it comes to "cooking", it's more like preparing a meal to maintain vital signs for yourself. In this sense, I don't cook, I'm only good at fooling myself and my stomach. I casually picked out the cheapest compressed biscuits to buy, and gave them random tea to keep my body running.

The body is a prison. It is also the foundation. Just keep it running, fool around, don't take it seriously.

Compressed biscuits are a good fooling material. In addition, there are cigarettes and alcohol.

I also have an unknown self-flow theory called the "Soul Theory of Tobacco and Alcohol". This theory holds that smoke and alcohol are of the same substance as the human soul, with smoke being the component and alcohol the medium. Just as a tube of paint is made up of colored pigments and a binding medium, the human soul has the same structure. Therefore, tobacco and alcohol are food for the human soul. To keep the soul from being hungry, it needs to be replenished with tobacco and alcohol.

I'm picky about cigarettes and alcohol. I have Yuxi, which I love to smoke, KOOL, which I smoke regularly, and various overseas cigarettes for changing flavors. I have a special small refrigerator to store my wine, Japanese sake, shochu, plum wine, fruit wine, milk wine, vodka, and home-made wine. I can choose to drink according to my mood and weather.

I know that Japanese sake has different tastes, including ancient sake, ginjo, raw sake, and mazoshu. I am picky about the number of rice polishing steps, origin, and raw materials. I like sake that is mellow and soft, with a rich aroma and a gentle aftertaste. I buy Okinawa shochu. The shochu produced in Amami Island has the best brown sugar and has the strongest taste. It is also the most beautiful. I drink all kinds of plum wine, from sour to sweet, and taste the plum blossoms from green to yellow in the wine. I try a variety of fruit wines and mix them with juice, tea, and carbonated water, just like mixing paint, to create the flavor I want most. When I'm too lazy to mess around, I add vodka to my favorite soft drink, and depending on my mood, I decide whether to "accidentally" add a little more with a flick of my wrist.

I have no interest in maintaining the physical body, but I do it seriously every day to dissolve my soul, evaporate with the medium, and finally fill the entire room, overlooking myself. This is food for my soul.

I ate a lot of cookie dough, smoked a lot, drank a lot, and took psychiatric medication when I remembered.

I also have an unknown self-flow theory called "not today theory". This theory holds that it is not necessary to take the correct amount of medication on time. Because, if the whole day in the past has been good, then there is no need to take pills to make yourself confused, but if the whole day in the past has been bad, then you need to save up the pills, each pill is After a painful day, if I think I have saved enough, I can drink it all in one go. This is the reward for enduring so far. Regarding suicide, you can say "not today" to it, but this is to say, "yes, it's today" one day in the future. The same goes for taking medicine. You can say not today to it, but also to say yes, it's today in the future.

After all, no matter how you “eat well”, there will be times when your body and soul will be damaged and fall apart.

What to do? Take medicine. Psychiatric drugs, sleeping pills, stomach medicine, and some nutritional supplements when I think about it. I am not an honest patient. If you interview the clinics I often visit, you may hear a lot of complaints and complaints. To psychiatrists, I am a patient who disappears easily, never returns to follow-up visits, and tells lies during follow-up visits and only wants to prescribe medicine. For cosmetic surgery doctors, I am a patient who suddenly appears with a knife wound on my wrist. The blood will continue to drip even when covered with cotton and gauze. After peeling off the dressing, I will still find a few unhealed wounds. The wound, a few light pink healing marks, and the brown-to-white marks underneath, dared to smile heartlessly and say, "Sorry, here we go again. This time I scratched accidentally." It’s too deep, I’ll probably need stitches, please. Is there any discount if I come a few more times?”

I use my body to make knotted notes. Every horizontal scar is one thing. Deep or shallow, long or short, crooked or neat, all represent the nature of the event. The sun will shine equally on the whole world, and it will also shine on my wrist equally. I will count: what happened in this one, when that one was in, and I can’t remember the details of the one at the bottom, only some emotions.

I dissolved my brain in drugs. Citalopram, fluoxetine, sertraline, venlafaxine, escitalop, mirtazapine, trazodone, triazolam, alprazolam, diazepam, does it sound like a list like this? Like giving the name of a dish? I know the effects and side effects of various drugs very well. Perhaps this is called long-term illness. I could feel how the medicine started from my intestines and stomach, followed by the blood circulation and spread throughout my body with the beating of my heart. The numbness was like electricity, crawling up the spine and up the back. When it hit the Tianling Cap, a euphoric mushroom cloud exploded with a bang.

I don't cook or eat.

I only take vital signs maintenance meals. Compressed biscuits are the cake base, tobacco and alcohol are the cream, and psychiatric drugs are the strawberries on top.

With these, can I continue to live...?

Write on the back:

I originally wanted to write about the process of making coffee or tea, and end this seven-day book in a calm way. If you submit your homework late, you should be conscious of submitting your homework late and finish it as soon as possible.

Who knew that the more I wrote, the more crooked it became, and later I simply deleted it all. In the life I live, such words cannot grow.

This seven-day book is the first time I have tried to write down everything about "myself" in detail, and then spread it out to others without any precautions.

Then give me a ending that suits me.

I write gloomy stories, express vague emotions, cry and vomit in public, and openly go crazy.

Thank you for seeing and seeing me go crazy. Thank you for not looking away. I know these are heavy and cannot be borne easily.

Finally,

気づいてくれて、FUき合ってくれて、ありがとうございます.

privy sound がWho is it?

(Although it was a restoration of mother-tongue writing, in the end I still suffered from mother-tongue shame. But this is me too, accept it:) )