Travel Well

It is not well these days

‘Get me away from here, I’m dying’

I am unsure of what it is and how to fix it

I am far too tired to fix this, far too exhausted but it makes others upset. They become upset, they question me and then they compete me. I never understood why.

There is a grotesque feeling and when it was starting, I messaged an old friend, someone long gone years ago but the responses were no far from a telephone’s intolerable beep while it hung from its wire. I wish I had received more responses, I wish I deserved them.

I want to cry. I constantly think I should cry but then I feel too tired to cry, dear. I get a headache and become drowsy. Then again, I think, it will be a burden to have a nervous breakdown or a breakdown and even much less, a meltdown. I think it is such a work to clean up everything. For others. Like a sick child, throwing up constantly and its antibiotics filling up the room. Is that not how tears and cries and screams feel like? A mess.

‘He reminded you of Johnny, before he went electronic. Seymour stein.’

Smiling feels like pulling a car and I do not understand why, it bothers me that I cannot comprehend its reasons. All effort keeps draining in making sure this mind blanks out now and then so my body does not collapse. Why be a bother on someone else

why bother

oh, do bother

I constantly change the lights here: lamp, fairylights, tube […]

bulb, lamp, tube, lamp, bulb, fairy, lights, which lights


which ones, tube, lamp, bulb


It is okay, maybe.

Maybe. No, I am not well and for once I do not want to fight it, I do not want to shut it up. Like a little child being scolded constantly, not being allowed to speak; told it is being a nuisance.

  • Change lights
  • Change all sheets, pillow covers; furniture setting
  • Shift furniture again, please
  • Let the walls be. They are not yours

This place is suffocating. No matter how many lights change or how many angles each furniture item is moved, it still feels cold and stingy. It feels alone and dead. I look like a corpse. You would not believe what this place does to my insides. I tell you, my age is young but will you be able to convince yourself of it when I am always seen slouching and dissolving into myself.

Do paper bags help when you cannot breathe? I wonder why I never tried.

It is embarrassing sometimes, to be outside and tell people you need to sit. People your age and worse, people older. The constant nagging of needing to sit down because holding up your body is exhausting, can in fact be embarrassing sometimes

Do you have a choice? No, you will collapse and that is evermore humiliating. Should you be reminded how young you are?

Right now, it has faded. It did. Pathetic monster lurking around while pulling down by the hem of my shirt. It does take a lot of strength to stay up! I cannot serve to this alone. There is a balance, let there be one! I begin to write and this. this this this pathetic, pitifully sly coward fades away; leaves exhaustion behind. What do I write? I am told I have written around four hundred words till now but of what? what am I writing?

Smile! Smile now! I said smi […]

I wonder what I should do to make this room feel better. The size is small, I can manage it, but what is outside the room for miles and miles and miles is not easy.

I pity you. Filth. I wanted to write! I wanted to paint, as well and I have no will to do either right now because I am okay. Unlike last night, I am okay right now. At this moment? I am not having trouble breathing, I am not recalling that disgusting room, I am not recalling its walls colors. I am, right now, not focusing on a small paint bowl because it was the easiest distraction. I wanted to write and I hate you, I hate you for not letting me, you pathetic coward.

I wanted to write. Oh please, these are not six hundred words.

Maybe I should get a rug for this room.


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