do not call for help.

When I am at my least rational, I feel as though death would be preferable to finishing the mountain of work I’ve yet to do this month. I know I can’t kill myself. I won’t kill myself. But whenever I get a flutter of chest pain, I wonder if God is being merciful.

I hurt. There is just no not-hurting anymore. I am one giant charley horse.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this. I’m sorry, whatever it was.


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