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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Mine courtship with deadly obsession(s) still indelibly scored within windmills of my mind this July 22nd, 2020. Imagine yours truly post pubescence (no matter ye never met me) all that life in front of me argh... precious time squandered abustle with rattle and hum of compulsions slavishly buzzfeeding pet peeves. Anorexia nervosa ranked as thee moost detrimental upon cusp of prepubescence I metaphorically teetered and tottered on the brink of deep Russian Siberian exile. While awaiting piano lesson (circa early 1970's) collapsed unto the floor Barbara McCall, née Youngblood helplessly watched her student (me) he flailed, garbled, hobbled... succumbed into heart of darkness softly wailing "I cannot live anymore" or some such grievous plaintive utterance. Long befuddled and dazed journey into night began to hound my doggone noggin while in the throes of puberty voices dictated me to forego first one meal, two, then all hunger pangs eventually stymied, squelched, and silenced. Dumbfounded family members (father, mother, and deux sisters) baffled, and thought precious progeny and brother respectively possibly involved with drugs (an easier fix in retrospect), versus shattered psyche (mine) analogous to Humpty Dumpty mishap only far more serious. Even curious peers queried me during lunchtime understandably asking, whether non intake of food nsync and/or linkedin with particular religion, which inquisitiveness answered with shrug of shoulders, cuz reason without rhyme i.e. existential crisis impossible mission to communicate at that moment, whereby all ears and eyes turned toward me I wanted to crawl into a black hole and disappear. I felt absolutely zero joie de vivre (no surprise stating the obvious) essentially loathed being alive when fellow students grilled me (unspoken tongue in cheek retort cheeses crust inaudibly uttered). A short while prior before anorexia nervosa got free rein to ride amuck analogous to red (angry) bulls running roughshod think utmost helter skelter my mother acquired degree as licensed practical nurse courtesy local vocational trade school. She crafted nutritious concoctions yet interestingly enough did not watch me like a hawk rather left her sole skinny son with task to consume sizable quantity without dereliction to pour said healthy drink down toilet. I quickly established a ritual sipping elixir whereby yours truly filled little plastic measuring cup then painstakingly nursed said tumbler size capful down to the last drop, which inexorably time consuming process found hardly any spare hours for any other (necessary or otherwise) function. Eventually solid food intake integrated with pureed secret ingredients, yet even the painful prospect receiving iron inoculations into bony buttucks (punitive punishment gladly accepted) without curbing appetite for self destruction, which as an aside mother dearest never disclosed constituent parts comprising blended conglomerate when, some few decades later, she went to her grave.
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