9th Feb. 2026
I really wanted to write today. I finally got to the place in my book that has been getting me excited since September. I really wanted to write that vicious DoubleBlack kiss.
Procrastination is not the OK way to put it. More like... finding excuses.
My laptop is falling apart (literally, it's held together by duct tape). But it works.
My wrists hurt due to overexertion. But I have no problem texting through my pain.
My doctor is expecting me to go for another EKG today. But it was raining hard today, and I re-scheduled.
I was stuck in a Limbo, torn between needing the distraction and being bed-ridden without being ill. My pillow has been wet all night long, all day long.
Nobody remembers me. Just my mother, I was the one thing that's ruined her life, so oh - she remembers me. However, I don't need no good wishes from her of all people.
I know he would have called. Every year, he would arrange for catering, from Italy, to be delivered at my door (he knows I'm lazy), always frowers, always wine, always candy, always exotic fruit. He knew me, inside and out. Because he was me. And I was him.
Now, only half of me survives.
I couldn't write today. My glasses are all wet, and I am missing half my fingers. People have 10, but I am half myself, and only have 5.
It's hard to write with just 5 fingers.
It's hard to write with just half your brain.
I know that nobody cares. They don't have to. But writing is like breathing to me.
I had to type this, with my 5 bleeding, skin-peeled, bitten fingers.
Happy birthday, my one and only love.
