It's hard to move my hands around now because the skin of my forearms is tight. So many parallel lines, so many tangents, all made of this shiny new thick fabric my own body engineered. All of them are pulling my extremities closer to my core, making sure I don't stray, making me small. I've lost weight since I tried to kill myself and that makes me happier than anything else in the world.
Hello world, I say every morning on another day I took for myself to get better but in which I will do actually nothing but rot. I do not get a reply. Because the world is moving forwards and everyone is accelerating and I am here in the same spot where I decided to die but I'm not dead but I am rotting. I'm stagnant. I never unpaused. I don't know what to do but all I think about is coming to a better full stop. Something that takes away the comparisons.