You dial his number, head pounding. your mouth is dry. he picks up on the first ring and meows. you are weak, and you are aching, and your voice betrays you, broken, sharp, and quiet.

you are not sure if he notices, you are not sure if you care.

you try to expel the poison in your head by explaining your thoughts and you can't find the right words and it sounds like a drug ramble, exhaustion and to much caffeine. you want to scream, scream, scream. your fingers will not stay still and a cramp is ripping through you. at least you are not pregnant. you make yourself smile.

you feel alone, no matter who is with you. you are never present anymore, you are separate and wandering and afraid, you sing pink floyd under your breath and try to find meaning in anything that you are writing down and listening to but everything is a mess of glitter and distraction, the pill on your tongue dissolves into a bitter mess and you throw up.

you want to walk until your surroundings are not familiar, until you are unrecognizable to everyone, but most of all, yourself. you think about the razors you have hidden, the way your skin is heavy, the way your breathing became uneven when you glanced in the cupboard and saw the bag of confectioners sugar and thought it was something else.

you beg. no one gives you what you want. you just want something that has meaning, something to hang onto, and you wonder if there is anything left in the world.

you light your cigarette. it's better not to think about anything.