Ticktock…

Ticktock, says the pancreas, ticktock.

How many times have I written here about wanting to forget about time, about the lengths to which I go in that effort? And yet there it is, always, this fucking disease, T1D/TFD, another plate spinning upon a middle finger pockmarked and calloused with fingerpricking scars amid life’s plates spinning upon middle fingers, a plate saying, feed me, feed me, ticktock, ticktock, keep me in line, keep me in check, ticktock, ticktock, says the pancreas…

That’s my secret, Cap: I’m always hangry.