1. Remembering "paradise" 2. Cutting off my own legs

1.
I see her from afar and it's not that long after her wedding. She still looks glamourous, and I sit beside her, or perhaps on her lap. We are on a moving thing, a tractor, or a car? She says "do you know what I'm drinking?" I say "Yes, a paradise...it's grenadine, aperol, and orange juice."

2.
I am fed up with it. I cut off my legs: by which I mean I take a knife and cut through the flesh on my thighs above my knees down to the bone, and through the bone, in a though-butter-like cut. Then I jump in the water, a pool, probably. The blood is not really flowing out. I reach out and grab calves that had been floating around in a mild panic and think "no, I think actually I need these!" I kind of just put them back onto my body.

It doesn't hurt all that much, but I feel ashamed that I cut off my own body. I walk around going to different places. B says that I did a good job and we do shots at an old western/Mexican cantina. Isa says that there are lots of things that she has to tie up! I have scars that ring around each thigh like low-slung garters.