1:35AM: counted only five molly pills in light blue pill container. paced between the kitchen and bedroom, not taking time to look at anything. counted again. rampant molly outbreak. rampant. keep thinking ‘rampant.’ in order to be in new york by 12:30PM i should be awake by 7AM and out the door by 7:30AM.

1:45AM: blended kale with citrus kombucha. the cord kept falling out of the plug. blender sounded louder with each subsequent plug-in. took smallish sips and felt healthier. stopped being able to drink it without wretching. poured remaining 15-20% down the drain and remembered inside joke with former best friend. we’d raise our hands in a surrendering motion while shaking our heads and matter-of-fact-ly saying ‘can’t do it,’ imitating colin farrell’s character in a recent but seemingly widely forgotten woody allen movie about boats. we saw it in a theater. can’t remember anything else about movie. ‘can’t do it.’ slight british accent.

2:00AM: experimentally used porky pig voice to say ‘ba-theeba-theeba-theeba that’s all folks’ to mom, indicating the end of loud blender noises. she said ‘what?’ walked to her bedroom door and stood, using my hand to mime a diminishing circle, which i then poked my head through (like at the end of looney tunes), then repeated ‘ba-theeba-theeba-theeba that’s all folks,’ enunciating the sounds slower. unsure if she ‘got it.’ had thought ‘surely she would ‘get this” but now it’s hard to say. refilled kombucha bottle with water.

2:26AM: responded to text from mira. swallowed the molly. ‘here we go.’ okay.

2:53AM: felt heart beating extremely hard all of a sudden. palms are sweating. was typing/elaborating on earlier thing about dad’s apartment and thought my body was having a physical reaction to emotions but then remembered eating molly. shivering. shit. shit. shit. feel. shit. unable to. shit. what do i have to do. it’s going to be hard or something, the thing i have to do. looked around room suspiciously, like, expecting it to answer me, then eyes landed on unopened sugar-free red bull propped against my crotch, looking up at me sexily. doolooodobbooboob.

if 8oz sugar-free red bull can was a person: would look like the guy from that band handsome furs. just picked it up. it is very feathery and light. it might be lurch from ‘the addams family.’ do you guys get it, the person i’m trying to say it’s like? heart is beating definitely faster.

can’t tell if i’m supposed to be capitalizing things anymore. molly. thought ‘molly’ and laughed self-consciously, like i was supposed to be laughing, like someone was watching me be on molly and contemplate ‘molly.’

if my hands were a person: jesus.

jesus.

they would be a wet person.

made all ten fingers do ‘the wave.’ the sound is like…pictured a well, like what kids get thrown down into, and like, a cave with a low grassy entrance with white flowers around it like where i used to imagine they kept jesus before he came back to life.