Dear Self

It is past seven in the morning. It is raining outside, and I am drinking hot dark chocolate. From here …

I had another panic attack. This is the second time within the week. It comes like an asshole with an …

I was talking to Y., I said, “You know that feeling when—you feel so alone but you’re so used to …

She was a genius of sadness, immersing herself in it, separating its numerous strands…

Oh what a grind it is embodying all these ideas and having perpetually to expose my mind…