I sleepwalk through my motions, drifting but unable to fit in or lead a normal life. I keep to myself. The detachment grows like a tumor until every cell of my body is fending it off. Insecurity reigns. There is no security, not here, not now. Friction in every movement, in any desire I feel to not be sleeping through my fate. I’ve given up on control or goals and just impatiently observe what’s left. Those who cannot fix themselves know that things will get worse so they don’t bother to try and dry the blood. Why worry about a trickle of blood when a leg might get chopped off any second? Sometimes everyone I ever knew or love seems to be behind a curtain and I can’t remember the connection I had with them or worse- them with me. I cut through these memories with all the tenacity of molasses. I move forward as though trying to walk through glue.  I no longer feel much, not even blame or anger at whatever situation this is. To feel I’d have to wake up, and sleeping I don’t feel like any prince will come along and wake me up. And if I was under some spell that could be broken, wouldn’t I dream? This is life without dreams,or dreams without memory. And without memory there is no need to form meaning. I don’t hold on. But I don’t need to hurt myself to feel pain- that I will never need a reminder of. I’d wish for something but I’d lost the capacity to know what to wish for. Maybe to be removed? But is there a me left to be removed, and if so, from what would I be removed from?

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