depression
somewhere between the coffee with a sweet friend and the three boxes of cookies you brought i felt a little more like i might make it through the day. the week even, possibly til may. still i was afraid to go to sleep, i might not get up. but here i am, again, surviving. it’s what i do. and all the overwhelm of work and the phone bill and the ever present possibility of eviction or accident or simultaneous disasster all the sad past and inevitably tragic future and all the faults that damn me and the seventy eight mistakes i made before noon yesterday alone are just a trick to get me in the store, where everything glitters and is deadly. i’m not buying. i have coffee and a lot of cookies. it’s still dark out but the edges lighten a little.
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August 2020
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