any question directed at another becomes something directed at the self and I'm starting to shake here, too much of me in the air of this room

Strange how happy I was just then. I hadn't left the apartment for days. Or something like that.

I need to go out today. And here I am writing this. The light's etched a permanent grimace on me, bleeding through the curtains. I have a prescription to pick up.

There's a little irony. Going out to get a pill so that you can go out in the first place. I want to throw up. I want to cry. I haven't done either for years.

Time to kick out this seat from beneath me and force myself to leave.