COVID has made me sick even though I've not contracted it yet. For instance, I self-soothe by imagining killing him, personally actively killing (not just hoping he will die). My favorite method is a golf club to his head, the first bash with all my strength caves it in like a watermelon. I got a watermelon the other day, and as soon as it came, I wanted to bash it for the joy of recreating the sensation of that murder. But I don't have golf clubs. 

I used to read Pema Chodron, for fuck's sake. 

Now I know I could kill somebody. And if I had strength left in my arms after that first murder, bring me that bitch who should be scattered in pieces across the dakotas, her severed head hung in front of Mt Rushmore for photo ops. 

Now, I hate.

"new shoes"