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It was poorly thought out. I did what I do. I did it anyway. Because I knew I would. And…I didn’t have to (I did), one could argue, and it could have all been avoided….but……what am I even talking about? It hasn’t happened. Nothing has happened. At all. (I should say something…should I say something?) All it is is nothing. All it is is not having the time. All it is is my seeing that face and what was cold and growing icy in my chest igniting. I fancy burning that face to cinders. It wasn’t well thought out. I thought it would be better. It isn’t. Even now I already know. I already know.

I did today what I did before. I went out in the rain so I could look sad. I don’t know if it happened that way. I went out. I look the way I look (sad). I can’t tell if I am. Maybe I’m just sad that I couldn’t be.

I thought about washing my hands.

I have done that a lot the last two days. I don’t mean to. I just…need to do it.

Like being friends. I know we’re not allowed. I know that. But I know we are, and it isn’t often I know things like that.
One more thing I hoped would help it get better. Maybe it did. Maybe that’s why I can’t even be sad. You can’t be sad when you knew about the monster and you let it pull someone under. Why am I so angry then?

It doesn’t matter. That all doesn’t matter.

Here. Here is something else:

I had a dream that I was at work last night. A new, bewildered looking runner was about to pass me in the corridor, and then he noticed me and brought his tray over. He looked upset, and told me he didn’t know what theatre it was supposed to go to. Asked for my help figuring it out.

On the tray was a head on a plate.

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