Diary Of A Juice Cleanse
Day one of the cleanse and I feel pretty okay. It’s a small word to use, merely four letters to insinuate the middle. There hasn’t been a high or low. I had a rush of energy in the morning, but it could’ve just been the walk through the cold. I’m still not sure if this is the correct way to extract demons. I need an exorcism hidden somewhere in this mixture of kale and beets. Too much ginger burns my throat, but I wanted it to purify my insides. The root to settle my stomach, the lurching I feel whenever my phone lights up. Detox my body, detox the thought of you.
Day two and I find it kind of funny how easy it is to feel empty. I drank as much water as I could and avoided caffeine. I couldn’t sleep anyway, when I did I only saw him. Last week I tried whiskey, but figured I had nothing left to lose. My eyes were red already, coworkers reasoned it was the wind. It howls like nothing I’ve ever heard. A howl for its lost lover, pushing the clouds as far as they will go. They look like dragons, gnarling, ready to tear apart what it comes in contact with. I feel like I’m drowning in these liquid vegetables, a little bit of fruit for sweetness. I wondered what the apple could possibly have wanted when it fell onto Newton’s head. It yearned for something else, it had to get away from the branch.
Day three of this cleanse and I’m not sure why I started. I’m already withering, I am doubtful of what part this is supposed to fix. I envisioned my cells becoming stronger, but I can barely choke down what’s in front of me. The only thing I can do is run, the action I’ve been best at. The thing about running is you don’t even have to do it fast. Few things will chase you, even fewer will keep up. I can’t tell if this headache is from lack of sleep or food. I suppose it doesn’t matter, it’s still a warning something is wrong. As if I didn’t already know things were wrong long before the past two weeks. I figured imaginary problems would work themselves out. I guess his problem was fidelity and, now, mine is still something to be worked out.
Day four and my concentration is quiet steady. I mean, considering I only think about one thing. The green juice looks daunting while I gulp it down before the train. The orange one is a bit happier, claiming to assist my body. An asterisk though, to advise me it isn’t approved by the FDA. That’s completely fine, I could list a thousand more things I consume that aren’t either. Pollution in the air, we could all move to somewhere remote. I finish the third juice and consider becoming a sheep herder in Norway, live a more humble life. I realized I wasn’t thinking about him, but then ruined it by thinking about him. The sixth juice, almond milk, baby steps are still steps.
Day five, whatever. Let my poison eat me alive, I’ve cleansed myself of caring. 
