Face pressed against the floor. I peel myself away from the vomitus halo of emotional gorging. I resist the urge to scrub my mind and delete myself from selective memories. I swallow a large handful of lipstick red pills. A torrent of greasy late fall California rain rinses the sleep and self-loathing from my eyes. I leave tiny notes to my future self. Guidance for the month of exalting work ahead.
11:57 a.m. - 2017-11-27
Recent entries:
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