I am going away with myself to finish it. It is all about me and I am nervous about the time I will spend in my own company.
Not all of it will be enjoyable. I will tear myself apart and it will manifest in quite a physical way. I will indulge in self loathing and compulsively masturbate till even I cannot bear to touch myself. The work will be done, but the private pain of it will be ugly and perhaps I will not be my friend any longer when I emerge, blinking blind from the burrowing into myself.
The writing of memoir.
The crawling into and up my own anus.
The horrible self-important self reflection. The deconstruction of the I.
Two weeks away with myself. Wish me luck and cross your fingers that I will return.
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