I destroyed myself over the last two
days. 7 hours of sleep for two nights to share and a staple food of espresso.
And one meal. carrots, sushi. But it didn’t matter what I ate since I couldn’t
keep it in anyway. I got so stressed at 3 in the morning I puked. This all over
one essay… or rather, this all over one attempt at some hint of perfection (of
course. You fail.) Then a crash today… now… recently. All that hoopla (FUCKING
HOOPLA) of wanting to die and looking for a knife or your own courage (or
cowardice) to devise a solution to be gone and heaving on the stairs–sobs or
tears or something–attempts at being alone but feeling surrounded but feeling
alone. The thing is, between the heaves of the stomach solution and the sobs,
many things felt right, sometimes more right than usual, better, even than
usual, and at one point you THREW YOURSELF INTO THE AIR metaphorically IN
EXPRESSION OF. So I guess that’s why you crashed. It’s okay now because you’re getting
better at this. But dammit, I thought we learned. This is why we left. You
gathered courage and strength and skill, so we came back.
Shut those beasts in the closet. Shower, rest.
Let’s not
do this again
