Last night I drank coffee obsessively at eight or nine o’clock, twice as much as I would normally drink in the morning. I felt dark, haunted, empty (there was nothing working inside me). I didn’t fall asleep until sometime after two o’clock, after lying in bed for hours (what did I expect?). Today walking to the café to get some work done, the first time I’d left my house in over twenty-four hours, the first time I’d set an intention to do any work, I felt angry, confused, dark, focussed, light, upset. Earlier in the day I’d sent a text message to H: a kind of cry for help, I realized only after the message was sent. I didn’t ask for help. I asked for a meeting the following week (what I wanted was to be comfortable with her) (what I wanted was to turn back the clock) (when we were together I didn’t know how to be both at ease with her and myself, as if those two things—which should be the most natural companions—were somehow at odds with each other) (I let other’s intentions get in the way of what I wanted, or to confuse what I wanted—I felt bad for feeling flattered). When I think about her, when I think about her family, when I think about A (her best friend) and the fact that we don’t seem to be communicating anymore: I wonder, can I go back? I wanted to go back. At the same time I want to give it all up—everything. Give up everything I know. Did I do anything wrong? I was miserable. But perhaps I didn’t protect it. And if I didn’t protect it—what didn’t I protect it from?

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