Tired, fatigued, torn up, lying down, lined up, burnt out, ripped in, used up, falling down.

My gorge rising oh lord I feel like I'm going to puke in my throat and my head oh lord is it going to explode throbbing and aching, intestines doing backflips, my gut-rot starting, below my bellybutton and huge and pressing. Hands shaking, pupils constricted, always-on-the-verge-of-tears oh lynn please don't tell me that in front of the class I apologize for the time before now when I was born and the time right now when I jostled you. Thinking I'm a knowitall me knowing that I knowsolittle jessperfect carauncaring and robyncold are people I love and hate and fear and envy and enjoy and hold dear and at a distance at the same time.

da-da dah dah dah dah dah dah

Changing direction, brain-directions, quickly, my paws slipping on the wet sidewalk and pavement, my weight thrown to one side, feet now soaking, toes now cold, vasoconstricted, my boy is absent and I can't have him back, I let him; I want him to, I pushed him to this, I can't force him out now.

Talking to that wonderous blonde beauty who I know and adore since childhood, she's sweetly, loving, and a bit too much like me but she blindsided me, I almost fell off my chair, my first thoughts distrust and suspicion, distasteful things, is she bullshitting me? I love her and it's too late! What to do, what to do, I can't do anything but talk about it but under specific forbiddance to say anything all I have is ranting and emotions pouring out between the dominant three fingers on my rightandleft hands.


Paws sliding out from under me, feeling empathetic sympathetic probably pathetic pain, arms go this way feet go that and elbows smashing tarmac face pushed into grass earthy smell and choking on the rain in my hair now I can't see, what do I do next? What does She do next? I have nothing. It isn't me. I'm watching.

Another one, her silky hair, I can't believe what a girl I've become, my fingers dreaming about tangling in her mane while the rest of my body dreams of strong muscles and deep baritone, sharp nose, sharp square chin, blue eyes, but she, she's small and curvy and fits in the palm of my hand, hauntress, others are impressing her, the nausea, it's back again, I'm giving up and I haven't even tried.

Everybody has a label; that's what she told me. She's beautiful, you know, she reminds me of me. Does that mean that I could be beautiful? Sometimes I feel beautiful. Sometimes. But rarely, when I'm in a state like this. Nothing sixteen hours of sleep couldn't fix. Nothing can replace that squirming body in your bed.

G-g-gjaw shaking, hands cold, toes cold, trunk unnaturally abnormally sickeningly warm, stomach full, that lime is not sitting well, I am worrying, long answer, arterial blood gasses, 85% pass, Oleg will, I will fail, I'm so scared.

Last night, I realized, must have been too tired for pleasure for the last few days, can't even remember what it's like to fall asleep not-exhausted anymore, desperately praying for company, 'oh phone me,' she says, but her phone, it lies, and betrays me. Electricity and shivers and shakes and convulsions. Where did that come from?

Tachypneic and desperate-scared, breath ragged, heart-fast, my own adrenal inotropes betraying me; how can I sleep like this now? Nicole, have you put your laundry away?

So I pick the pink kitty phone from its cradle, and press the flower to my ear; I hear tackatackatack, I am disappointed, I an-ti-ci-pate, I have no energy left for energy-hope, nothing left with which to be excited, Brett was so excited today, talking about Sesame Street with me, we're such children.

"He's the biggest kid."

Saying one-thing thinking a-no-ther and desperately deeply hoping oh my lordgod I hope Heather doesn't hate me, remind me why I care again

Still unsure as to times, feeling like I'm planning this all on the spur of the moment, realizing all I have organized is all but the last bit, and the times, and I am hoping, desperately.


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