Right now, I don't feel good. I feel grumpy. I feel like a malcontent. And yes, all because I haven't had milk for the last TWENTY FOUR days. My liver, they say, has become a weakling. I have named her Lily, and I want her back. I miss milk. No one understands this, because most of the people around me feel like puking when they see milk. I respect that, but I cannot get it across to them.
Everyday, I have about two large glasses of milk. If I am under some kind of stress, I have four or five glasses. There is something infinitely comforting about milk. One glass of milk can help you get rid of cramps during periods, help you understand difficult stuff, make your bones so strong that you can knock out a person with one good punch.... Milk helps me survive. And it is not even an addiction. Milk drinking, for me, is not merely physiological. I am emotionally attached to milk. Every morning I wake up, I need a glass of milk to get my system working. It is like fuel. I can't function without milk. My brain is withering away. I feel weak.
In a few days, I will feel suicidal. argh.
