I read a chapter of the self-help book, then the entirety of _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_. It’s a potent combination: 12-step uppers with sentence fragment gonzo hallucinogens.
The arthritis pains come with the first real snows, beautiful stabbing aches as white flakes. Pain induced insomnia turns everything into buzzing noise I read another self help chapter, and see myself, my patterns in the book. Then I mainline British science fiction.
Is love always portrayed as codependence?
I watch Fight Club again instead of staring at her picture.