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— Richard Siken, Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light (via letsbelonelytogetherr)
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… I should quit being so bedridden. This is insanely unlike me.
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Mm.. In a few, yes. It can be a harsh winter out there. It’d be wise to prepare around this time of month.
…
Like I said, don’t worry about it.
Yawn.. It’s morning already…?
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Mmh … I suppose it has been oddly quiet recently.
Maybe there’s just… not much going on, hm? I wouldn’t stress too much about it. Everybody’s likely cozying up for the upcoming winter.
… Don’t let it get to your head.
Yawn.. It’s morning already…?
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A… ah?
…Well, I haven’t stepped a foot outside. I’m not too sure myself.
Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, Stelle?
Yawn.. It’s morning already…?
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… These past few days I’ve just been isolating myself at home. Aha. Just so hot in desert these days.
Yawn.. It’s morning already…?
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Euhgghhff… He buries his face into a pillow he poorly sew together by himself, feeling extremely overwhelmed by his physical state.
In a poor attempt to sleep it off, he ultimately just finds himself zoning in and out.
It makes him feel a lot more worse.
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I really don’t know how I feel so.. restless today. There’s an ache in my chest that won’t go away.
… The feeling is oddly familiar, though. I don’t like it. At all.
… Yawn. I’m getting tired. I’ll head back home.
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Alright. See you, then.
It feels like I've passed out for almost two whole days.
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Ah, well.. I guess. I’ll be going back to my day-to-day activities now that I’ve got a clear head. Just gonna be foraging as usual.
It feels like I've passed out for almost two whole days.
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Mhm. Honestly, I don’t remember anything at all from this week. It’s …weird.
It feels like I've passed out for almost two whole days.
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… Same here.
It feels like I've passed out for almost two whole days.
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… Nothing. It means nothing. He exhales, a deep shaky breath that seems to empty him of everything but the lingering tension. I didn’t mean to do that. I …lost my mind there for a second. I’m sorry.
Let’s just.. forget that ever happened. He says, not giving Vance one look since the kiss. Without a word, he sharply goes forward.
… Gonna lay down on this flower bed.. I’m getting bored. Snz.
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Sylvia Plath, in one of her last essays, "Ocean 1212-W" (dated 1962)
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