Sometimes you clear out the healthy bacteria and that’s when C. diff comes in.
You gotta watch out for that. Great, you tell me to drink it, then tell me not to.
Back in my room, sweating over the covers, body clammy, corpse-like. Can’t get my head straight.
Drinking hand sanitizer is not going to make you healthier, you crazy fuck.
But they can talk to your brain. THEY can tell your brain what to think, and you can’t.
So, who’s running the show? Stop it, please.
I tried not to think the thought, but like a dog on a leash I could only get so far from it
before I felt the strangling pull against my throat. My stomach rumbled. Nothing worked.
Even giving in to the thought had only provided a moment’s release.
I returned to a question Dr. Singh had first asked me years ago, the first time it got this bad:
Do you feel like you’re a threat to yourself? But which is the threat and which is the self?
I wasn’t not a threat, but couldn’t say to whom or what, the pronouns and objects of the sentence muddied by the abstraction of it all,
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