(1/19/25)

In times such as these, where it seems as though I will never again prosper, and my hair grows long and dry, it is easy to begin marking days by how often I shave and to watch as my complexion grows red and sour and my hands crack and blister and my stomach aches from worry and I wear the same pants 4 days in a row and I spill drinks on my desk because I get too carried away again escaping the nightmare that is being cold and waking up in the morning. I am so afraid of my identity getting stolen. Here, take it, try it on for size. Discover what it's like for your skin to be irritated by everything and for chills to always run down your spine. I get phantom messages. I check my phone every minute. Same wallpaper. Same dorm. Different day. The agonizing reality of sleep deprivation aka being awake aka it's too cold out come back to bed rewrite every thought every thought is horrible every thought makes me sick. Feel the weight of routine and Spanish Homework. I was built by steady hands. It's a real shame I keep falling over it's a real shame that every time I open the news I get scared, well I got scared, now I don't feel much of anything except the taste of a multivitamin. Everything outside is grey. I need to get my prescription. I need to shave again and maybe sleep.

~clancy