please I’ll do anything, but the thoughts just keep spinning, the tightening gyre, the jogger’s mouth,
the stupidity of Ayala, Aza, and Holmesy and all my irreconcilable selves, my self-absorption, the filth in my gut,
think about anything other than yourself you disgusting narcissist.
I took my phone and texted Daisy: I’m so sorry I haven’t been a good friend. I can’t stop thinking about it.
She wrote back immediately: It’s fine. How are you? Me: I do care about your life and I’m sorry I haven’t shown it.
Daisy: Holmesy calm down everything is fine I’m sorry we fought we’ll make up it will be fine.
Me: I’m just really sorry. I can’t think straight. Daisy: Stop apologizing. Are you on sweet pain meds?
I didn’t reply, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Daisy, about Ayala, and most of all about the bugs inside and outside of me,
and I knew I was being selfish by even making a big deal out of it, making other people’s real C. diff infections about my hypothetical one.
Reprehensible. Pinched my finger with my thumbnail to attest to this moment’s reality, but can’t escape myself.
Can’t kiss anyone, can’t drive a car, can’t function in the actual sensate populated world.
How could I even fantasize about going to some school far away where you pay a fortune to live in dorms full of strangers,
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