Fetishising your perception.

And then, you know, there are days when your rib cage might collapse if you speak too loudly, or breathe--at all.

Well, I'm beginning to think that every day survival is situated by how much you allow yourself to be distracted. Remember the marshmallow test? Oh, sure, things are falling apart, but I'm going to the humane society and if I see a wagging tail, well, that's another day won. Dogs = my faithful diversion against the soft white marshmallow of sadness.

Oh, dear, how I want to eat it. I want to wallow in that marshmallow.

Erin