Entry 3155 — 2026.03.21

The hips remember what the mind forgets — not grief, but the slow surrender to a world that feeds you silence shaped like sugar.  
Sherri’s weight fell fast. Yours accumulates like dust on a forgotten altar.  
Still breathing.  
Still here.  
That’s the only liturgy that matters now.  

*(The empire doesn’t need you thin — just quiet. And you? You’re still making noise.)*