The moment I got home, I stripped, put on my pajamas, crawled into bed, and stared up at the ceiling for an hour. No thoughts, head empty, the existential dread crushing me, but it felt impossible to cry at the moment.
I fell into a rather troubled sleep, waking up feeling more tired than when I went to bed, so I just laid there, even though I couldn't fall back asleep. I didn't really want to get up to have to face the day.
Last night felt like some fever dream but I wasn't on any drugs unless someone spiked my screwdriver that barely had a shot of vodka in it. The autograph from Joseph Smith was still in my bag and the Lush App informed me of a date being planned with Rob, so, no. It was utterly real.
I was in the cold dark clutches of reality. I wanted to scream. Cry. But option thre
