I'm fine.

“How have you been?” you ask.

I…well, my hair has grown out. It’s in that awkward stage, but I don’t bother looking in the mirror. What does it matter? It has been greasy for days, and my scalp itches, but I can’t seem to force myself into the shower. I’m thinking about shearing my head. I can’t really point to a day and say that’s the one. That’s the day I gave up. It has been a gradual downward spiral into…this.

 I need to curl up somewhere that’s not here. Somewhere that I can’t hear the drone of traffic or any of the other intrusive noises that never stop. There’s food on my shirt that I can’t identify, and I haven’t been outside the house in over a week. Where do I go from here? I’m not naïve enough to believe that I can’t get any lower because I’ve inhabited those depths before. I don’t want to go back, but at least it’s familiar if nothing else. What’s happening out there isn’t. Every day, the news media shows us something worse. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Today, it feels like too much effort to take a deep breath. I feel…I don’t know. Nothing and everything all at once. There are too many feelings to feel. The circuits are overloaded. Try your call again later. It’s all just too much, and I’d like it to stop.

I need it to stop.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I reply.

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