it is almost two o'clock and i have just gotten to pick up where i left off last night before leaving the office.

ew. i just said that. and it's the foremost thing on my mind. i hate that.

something more interesting, something more interesting...

nope. i've got nothing. i think i've slept a grand total of eight and a half minutes since sunday, so i have that constant feeling of only semi-presence, like whatever i do doesn't really count because it's another me doing it. i've also stopped eating, kind of. i haven't really been hungry for days. even when my organs tell me, "amanda, you're hungry. take care of that." the idea of eating still strikes me as awful and nauseating.

maybe i have an eating disorder. could i get out of work for that? call in bulimic? "sorry, i can't come in, i'm binging. i'll try to swing by before the purging, though, sound good?"

probably not, i guess.