You wake up and the first thing you feel is a crushing weight on your chest that you are alive. Almost as big as the weight of the guilt you feel for not being able to actually live. You lie there staring at the ceiling above almost paralyzed. You are afraid. You don’t even know what you are afraid of but you’re constantly afraid. What finally gets you up is the reminder that you have to work to pay the bills. Just before you give in you play games with yourself. You wonder what it would be like to simply stay in bed and turn your phone off, to blow-up your own life and career. Or you imagine canceling every single one of them and getting in your car and driving away. But none of the fantasies are ultimately satisfying because no matter what you do with your actual life, you still have to face yourself. So you drag yourself out of bed and you start doing the things you always do. And you know you’re just surviving. And maybe the only almost-positive thought you have is: “fuck, I can’t believe I do this everyday–I could so easily just file a claim for disability, move in with my broken family and sleep all day”.

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