Straight No Chaser

Trainspotting

mysterious scratches are appearing all over my body. one on my right wrist, one on my left shoulder blade, one that curves from my belly button down toward my right hipbone. they're the ch-ch-ch kind, with all the starts and stops, and they are pencil-thin and a little frightening, inexplicable as they are.

i have done something terrible, for which i will shortly catch a lot of shit. i know this, and i'm somehow living this day anyway, with this dread, this shattered focus. and i have a paper due at five, and i haven't started it yet. if my guardian angel were more of a parental figure, i'd say these weird little scratches were deliberate; my penance for what a shitty and ineffective person i have been, lately, and (unrelated) for lying to my roommate when she asked whether i had any more white chocolate reese's cups.

either that, or i've started shooting up in my sleep.

and no, i'm not going to tell you what i did. do not, do not, do not ask.