So much pain. You want to be held but it is dangerous to wish for that. It makes you feel small and, besides, you already cried the day away yesterday. No more tears. You refuse. Place the pillows on the floor in front of the television and go away. Pause for water and bathroom breaks. Pause to talk to yourself between episodes. You feel dizzy and weak. It means you need food. Force a yogurt down your throat and try not to gag. Eat it quickly. Get it over with. The vomit only reaches the back of your throat. Whew. That’s not so bad. Your real hunger will come at 10pm–then you won’t need to force anything. Need a break from the break. More numbness. Naked photos. Dissociative masturbation. How much time did that take? Ten minutes. What next? Back to the floor. You’re sick of your show but it’s a good distraction when you can let yourself go nto that world. Priests, psychics and demons. Silly, but good. It’s not the show you are sick of, it’s the way it seems like your only option. Text message. Reminder of the outside world. Like you are on a space station alone and you’re getting a message from earth. It’s getting dark out. Why are you sad that the day is ending when it seemed so long? Because of the guilt. You feel like the pain and the numbness is robbing you of a life. And tomorrow you will give yourself away to help others. And it will both give you life and wear you down. It will make you feel human and then, by the end, make you a husk of one. And you will return. You will be back on the floor next weekend recovering from the week before, wondering why on earth you bother at all.

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