Needless to say, I threw up despite my valiant efforts and laid in the bathroom for what felt like years but was really a couple of minutes. Despite the floor being ice-cold, I couldn’t find the motivation to get myself off of it no matter how hard I tried. I wanted to lie there in that one position until the end of time; I felt no motivation to do anything at all at that moment, to be honest with you. It’s like I stopped caring about everything but time travel. My theory is that it somehow messed with my serotonin and dopamine receptors like a drug. The worst part is I kept doing it even though it made me feel like I was dying. I guess I did it so much because it distracted me from my other problems. Can’t think about life’s issues when you’re delirious. It’s funny how fragile the human b
