I come home from school, throw the backpack on the floor and lie down on my bed watching the room slowly darken.
This weekend, I've slept over 24 hours, and yet I'm still so tired.
I've stopped eating again. I know I should, but everything tastes like Styrofoam.
I lack motivation to move, to breathe. At least breathing's semi-automatic.
I pick the scab off my leg (which was originally from an accident) and widen the wound.
I'm neglecting a pile of email and phone calls.
I'm neglecting my life, pushing it away for another day. I think, "Oh, I'll feel up to it tomorrow," but I know tomorrow will be more of the same.
And what for? How much longer will this drag on? Why did this suddenly start? It was much more than seven days until Eva's birthday a week ago...
I'm trapped within myself.
Hopefully I'll be able to come back soon.