I have not slept much this week, or worked much or socialized much.. I've just been going through the movements, existing, breathing, smoking, fucking, smiling at the appropriate times and drinking a bottomless cup of coffee. I am supposed to speak at the take back the night rally this weekend. I wrote my speech w/ no passion and have fallen back on excerpts from an Andrea Dworkin speech from 5 years ago.
I just can't seem to understand how I hit the restart button? I just feel fucking trapped by his life and his death. But right now all I can see is him in the casket, His hands, his eyes that always stared off in the dark and his mother touching his hair. I just can't get past this
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