There's something weird with the people here. I'm not quite sure what it is, but it's something. I'm scared and alone. Oh wait, I know what it is. It's my blood sugar. And it is very low. This explains every little thing right now in my head that isn't making perfect sense. Because usually everything is sensible or understandably close to making perfect sense. And when it doesn't, well... then you end up like me right now, not making any sense and scared out of her mind unable to move.
Or, you end up like I did, on a mattress on a bunk bed in the middle of the Central American rain forest, scrawling words on a page while your tongue felt faint and thinly spread over your mouth and under your molars, and when you finally read the words when your blood sugar, somehow, who knows, made it up to around 60 mg/dL, you were shocked to see that in your heightened fear from low glucose, epinephrine, and phosphorylation, you were able to write your last will and testament and it wasn't pretty. Some bullshit like, "God, please forgive me. If you're there. Just know, that I would do anything to make me seem more pure in your eyes. I am sorry. Don't let me die." And on those soggy, moleskin pages then, I discovered the answer to religion and humanity quickly and with mild psychosis. Nobody wants to die. This fear makes you say and believe things that you'd never say and believe. It motivates you to kill others and to lose yourself.
But eventually, you'll wake up to consciousness and feel sucrose on your tingling tongue and you'll know that you're life has been a lie--if you find the evidence. What is the evidence? It has to be words. Anything else and it's misinterpreted. It has to be full sentences, too, otherwise you're left with whatever the hell someone stronger than you thinks whatever the hell evidence you've found is. We're not all writers. I leave myself behind as often as possible so that when I'm judged or when I'm judging myself, I'll know what's going on.
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