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| Inertia towards dying / Post-Vomit Depression: A Memoir | |||||
| I'm killing myself. | |||||
| I am aware of the irreprehensible harm I create on my body nearly everyday, but I do little to reverse the trend. I'm not sitting around in a hospice, terminally terminal. But don't be surprised to see my name on the backpages sooner than my peers. It is my fault. It was me that didn't take care of my own vessel, not someone else. Sure, I'd like to be more health conscious, but at the end of the day, I'm too lazy and nihilistic. | |||||
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| I hadn't thrown up in over 5 years. The last time I got sick, I had to go to the hospital for 3 days. They pumped me with valium until I saw double and pissed myself. It was the sickest I had ever been. | |||||
| I got sick last week. Like the last time, but without the Valium. I wretched day and night, and then capped things off with a turbulent fever. | |||||
| My biggest fear in life is throwing up. And I've found myself in a vaguely familiar situation: a post-vomit depression. My interest in things I like to do have dropped off nearly 40%. I have temporarily misplaced my sense of humor. The world has become a black orb in the socket of my eye. | |||||