Open a word document. Close your eyes. Now, type what you feel. Not how you are emotionally, but what you feel like writing. Don’t search for words, put down the first thing that comes to your mind. It doesn’t have to make sense. Punctuation? Forget about it. make things new lines only when you want to. Do NOT look at what your writing, only picture it in your mind. If you make a typo, don’t look to correct it. You can worry about it later, right now you need to think.

Being exhausted is exhausting. I’m tired, so tired, my mind is a labyrinth, it’s tiring walking through the maze of life taking wrong turnings and right turnings and turning back on yourself, and finding that you wind up right at the place where you started. I can’t keep up with my thoughts, with different smells and words and people and bodies, all moving together like a storm across campus. “Right now you need to think.” I do, about so much. I think about you, a lot, perhaps too much for my own good, for yours, for ours. What is ours? What belongs to us? Nothing. We have nothing in this cold and lonely world. We created a world for ourselves but you left me to run it alone. I’ve since left our world too. It won’t surprise you to hear that. I need to think. I worry about tomorrow’s hospital appointment, I worry about what the outcome will be for us, for you. I pray for you although you don’t believe in any religion, despite having studied them all. I can’t concentrate on my dissertation so I’m writing this instead, writing for myself, the most selfish of acts. My hands and feet are numb, students can’t afford central heating and so my extremities freeze and that’s the way it is. Sometimes I think that you must hate me, and that would make you just as crazy as me. You have no reason to hate me, I’d do anything for you. It’s a shame that you don’t know that, and that you’ll never know that because you’ll never read this. I dream of receiving a letter from you: it”s easy to find out my address but you won’t take the time. Why should you? You don’t care about me. You never have, and probably never will, and that breaks my tiny little heart.

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