Too much coffee, too many trips, not enough work, too much work. I run around people’s ankles like an annoying shit dog and then stare into space. My body is completely still while my heart backs up under my ribs, oozing through the sewer grate. Somedays inside me is completely insane. Somedays the smallest statement uttered from someone’s mouth erupts every nerve in me. Somedays I feel eve.ry. syll.a.ble. When I’m not typing, I’m staring at this white screen, my cold face cutting a deep glacier between the valley of my hands. Looking at me you would never know, never know – my skin is a windowless silver drum and inside – everything that’s bored, angry, loved, pushed, sorry, riled up – is bouncing around like protons in a bomb, perfectly balanced until …

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