I don't want to believe that this is how life will be. I want to be a positive person. I'm trying pretty fuckin' hard, but everything tends toward chaos, right? Entropy everywhere.
I never felt less perfect than I do these days. Imperfect doesn't say it all - faultfull is rather closer to the mark. I am full of deep faults that prevent life from moving forward in any positive way. If it's all in me, there's hope that I can fix it, right?
Meera and I compared symptoms today. Not making eye contact. Check. Speaking less. Check. Keeping all bodily movements to a minimum. Check. The world grows smaller and I pull its littleness closer to me. I was telling Meera about how we used to play with a parachute in gym class when we were smaller. Did you do this, too? It was just this huge circle of brightly colored nylon. All the kids would hold on to it, all around the circumference, and on the count of three you lift it up as high as you can, then pull it down behind your back and sit on the hem so you're inside a bubble of muted light, giggling and looking at other giggling faces, watching the bubble sag slowly, pulling more fabric under you to keep the bubble tight.
I'm pulling and pulling, trying to keep it all tight. Everything grows smaller and closer. I miss your smiling faces. I miss the brighter world.
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