tomorrow.
five hours between a hundred strangers, writing for my life.
my finals are starting, my hair is falling out, my self harm worsens and my anxiety is reaching for the stars.
tomorrow.
trying to decipher the text in front of me, that is not only black ink but letters and words, even sentences.
I need to calm down.
how do I calm down?
I am burning, crying, screaming.
I am hiding silently in my bed, knowing my body - loving as it is - provides me with enough bacteria to cough. my burning throat matches my inability to talk, to think, to see.
tomorrow.
the hours are counted, my life is not ending.
why is it not ending?
do I need it to stop?

please make it stop.