I’m afraid to go to sleep. I’d rather try to keep reading than risk the nightmares and the SaltScrubs. I’m scared of what shite my brain will dredge up tonight with the same old worn out theme of helplessness pervading, paralysing my legs; rendering my arms immobile; erasing my ability to drive; eradicating my knowledge of using a mobile phone; silencing my voice. What metaphorical mess will I get myself into tonight that I can’t get out of?
Sometimes I worry that it seems like I blame everyone else (men mostly) for the state of my life. I’d like to clarify that ninety percent of the human disaster zone I am is my own fault and I’ve left a trail of destruction behind me. Just in case y’all think I’m scapegoating.