Keep going, I silently say to myself. Keep going. My skin is dry and cracked and represents how I imagine the current state of my brain to be. Sucked dry. I keep trying to repair my skin with various lotions but the elements are too much and nothing seems to be working, at least that’s visible to the eye.

Feed the good wolf. Feed her, nourish her, love her.

But how is it possible when I’m this tired? Sometimes I think the only way I’ll get through this is a medically induced coma. Or an accidental one. As quickly as motivation comes, it goes. Because I’m too exhausted to entertain it for long.

Feed the good wolf. Feed her, nourish her, love her. Keep going.

Sleep deprivation catapults impulsiveness. I have no research to back that up (I am too tired to use google right now), but it is my lived experience regardless and I will just go ahead and surmise it’s true. I just don’t feel good right now. I feel like it’s the end and I don’t know when but it’s pending doom (not in a catastrophic world way, just a for-me-only way). Someone wrote to me “Sometimes, when we really want to die, our survival instinct kicks in and we do anything to stay alive. … Our bodies take us somewhere where we can’t die.” And I can’t stop thinking how true I think that can be. It explains why Friday night after my friends went home, without a premeditated plan, I got up to walk home but instead walked to another bar. Alone. Which is not something I’ve ever done before.

I don’t know anything anymore.

Feed the good wolf. Feed her, nourish her, love her.

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