26.09.03 - 9:05 PM
I don't know. I've grown.
It feels a little strange. I feel the walls to navigate, I can't stand up on my own. I am afraid to close my eyes because I know I will end up asleep and that the cold will take me. My fingertips are numb in the mornings and sometimes my entire body is so numb I think I may collapse into the pavement.
I think it's okay, because I really need to sleep anyways.
I think it's okay, because I really can't walk anymore anyways.
Sometimes I hold a thermos and it burns my palms but it feels so good, like such a fantastic contrast to the biting frost I can feel forming in my pores.
I wear a black sweater and the hood brushes against my ears. I picture a girl with a blonde mohawk-chelsea and plastic-rimmed glasses, I picture her lips brushing against my ear and her breath breathing in warmth. I remember.
I don't know. I've degressed.
Every day it feels like disintegration. Like I can watch my threads unfurl and my seams split apart, pick at the threads and throw them into the breeze. Never mind that they are parts of me. They are weak.
I might as well throw myself into the breeze because I. Am weak. I.
Sometimes I wonder if I can do this for another 8 months if I can barely make it seven days.
