Feb. 16th, 2012

dclarion: (Default)
I must have cried myself into total exhaustion last night, because I just woke up.  I remember the pain in my diaphragm, like a hand gripping and crushing my torso.  I remember the feeling of total vacuum, of a universe consisting of absolutely nothing.  I remember wishing that I could die, and I remember my disappointment at seeing the light of day.

Another day.  There are dishes to wash, cans of food bank fare to put away.  Why?  What does it matter?  There is only emptiness; even emptiness that is pretty is still empty.

Why do I continue?  Why am I such a coward?


Feb. 16th, 2012 05:47 pm
dclarion: (Default)
Would someone please visit me and pretend that you like me?  I can't afford to pay you, but perhaps I have something here that could constitute a meal that you would deign to eat.  I have no television -- I just don't like it, I'm sorry to say, and can't afford it, anyway -- but I could connect to some radio station's Internet feed for some heavy metal or something.  You don't have to converse with me; you could just occasionally nod your head while I babble on about the different sizes of infinity.

I know that it is a lot to ask, but I just need some human company.

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