i think that i have been lying here staring at the wall for more
or less two days straight. i am not sure. maybe it has been more or less two
centuries.
when i am not home i cannot figure out where i am. what i'm
supposed to be doing. i keep reminding myself it's sunday, though i don't know
what this means. remind myself to not let go of the leashes. that i am walking
dogs. i do not think i should be allowed to be driving.
in moments of lucidity i have scribbled important things all up
my arm. i am trying to keep track of things but towards evening i cannot even
read. black and blue of sharpie, pen, charcoal. i am marked, dangerous.
i am losing touch with reality. i am depressed beyond all
measure and i am losing touch with reality.
i am terrified.
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