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I sit on the couch, my mind reeling. I know exactly what would calm me down and clear my thoughts. My fingers inch towards my shorts. No. I can’t. I stand up quickly and pace back and forth. When I catch myself biting my nails, I drop my hand. Food. I can distract myself with food. The kitchen has been stocked with necessities and junk food. Perfect. I open a cabinet and find a tub of icing in the top of the shelf. Standing on my tiptoes, I have to reach up to grab it. All the while, my pelvis “accidentally” grinds against the edge of the counter. It was an accident.
d ౨ৎ
stop omg. this is what the stupid reality show put in the show.
Thrive (Addicted #4)
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