Write

4I move my cursor to the top right of my screen…”write“, it says. I click on it as it’s too enticing not to.

It’s Sunday and for the first time in months, I haven’t got any work to do. It’s weird. I love my job. I am writer. It sounds so lovely to say even lovelier to say out loud. I work seven days a week. I told myself today would be all about reading poetry and relaxing, but in all honesty—I am so fucking bored.

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Crippled

I felt weird last night. It happened around 5:30pm and it felt as though I was high or out of it. I went home and had no energy to do small tasks. I got in bed around 7 o’ clock and felt completely out of it throughout the night, too. I woke up feeling OK but down. I went to work and as soon as I got there, it was as if I was about to implode or have a panic attack.

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