It always happens like this, a few days of something approaching energy and then I'm flat again. Just when I have to move, my limbs turn to sawdust and making a cup of coffee is as much as I can manage.Right when I have to pack a suitcase, drag it on to a train, and get through another dull and uninspiring week.
I don't know what can save me.
You can't save me. I haven't spoken with you in two weeks, I'm testing myself to see how long I can go. I know I'm also testing you; I know it's unfair, I know you have a hundred and one priorities and stresses. But I still wonder how long it would take you to call, if I can hold out. How long it will take you to wonder, "I hope she isn't dead."
