3 am. The dog is dying in the other room. Quietly throwing up blood. There is an animal in the ceiling. My mind has ground to a halt, frozen with vocational despair. I cannot, simply cannot, read another one of these right now. They are just too bad. Am I to blame? I remember why I smoked. Can I still get three hours of sleep? Fucking miserable.
Today is better but my bones hurt from not sleeping.
