plans for today: go to macmedics, deposit check, retrieve hair dye and maybe masha package from mom’s.

I AM NOT FUCKING WITH UNLOADING THE CONTENTS OF MY CAR INTO STORAGE UNIT TODAY. THE BACKSEAT AND TRUNK ARE FULL. IS ANYONE INTERESTED IN BUYING/TAKING MY ‘ESTATE’ (dresser, schoolwork from high school and college, stuffed animals, desk, three night stands, drawings, collages/art things, lamp—maybe a few lamps—clothes, shoes, I think a bed frame, I don’t know there’s way more, I don’t want to think about any of this shit, feel physically heavy, like since I’ve started writing what things I have it has felt like water is pouring into me from every body hole)

if anyone wants to come to the storage closet with me and take whatever they want that would be nice. tired of moving things around to places where no one cares about them. tired of seeing/touching them inducing sadness. i want my things to belong to someone who wants them, like me when i first got them.

2:39pm: maybe I should move to Florida. I lost a ring mom gave me. When I wear it I feel like an impostor, but I don’t know what I’m pretending to be.

2:41pm: drinking coffee: step one of getting more out of bed.

2:45pm: I’m a shitfuck.

5:50pm: sitting in car, parked outside dad’s. Ate 50mg noopept. Put on eye makeup. Skin looks older. Need gas fuck I forgot. Here we go. Here comes the day. Good old 5:53pm. People say ‘nowhere to go but up’ but you can always go down or another direction or just stay in the same place forever. I don’t know. Feeling bad. Absence of Philadelphia apartment. I still have keys, Zachary left his keys. Another year. Great.

5:58pm: macmedics is closed. So is bank. I am stupid. Going to get…er…jesus this is an embarrassing female cliché: I want to wear something that’s not my old clothes. Ceremonious dress buying is about to go down. Get ready. Look the fuck out forever 21 I’m coming for you.

6:52pm: in mall parking lot. Answered phone call w/Los Angeles number. Woman said something about health insurance and put me on hold before I could respond. Man said ‘is this Megan Boyle,’ enunciating almost sarcastically. I said ‘yeah can you guys please take my name off the list.’ He hung up.

7:24pm: huge sinking sadness at seeing nice clothes on mannequins at nordstrom. Aware of my insane outfit. Feel so far away from everything, like I might be in a space station controlling ‘Megan Boyle entering Nordstrom’ with a joystick. The space station would be in another galaxy—maybe a long-forgotten first draft of a better space station, got caught in a wormhole or something, is now so far from everything that it’s become the thing that’s been making people think the universe has an end.

7:28pm: passed a man in a suit leaning on railing as he said ‘I couldn’t even walk today.’ there is not much fabric separating my naked body from any of this.