Journaling June: Damnable Delusions

Reaching for the popcorn on my nightstand.

The baggie of white cheddar popcorn could save my life, but it’s no use. It’s right there on the table, a few feet away, and I cannot reach it.

(it’s only a slight stretch. we can do it.)

And aggravate my back? I can barely breathe, shallowly, lying perfectly still.

(we have to do something. we’ll starve if we wait here for help.)

And if I move I risk permanent paralysis. I just have to hold on. Somehow.

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