the dreams in which i'm dying are the best i've ever had.

this is from a short story called, "Gomez Palacio" by Roberto Bolano.

I found it hard to get to sleep at night. I had nightmares. Before going to bed, I would make sure the door and the windows of my room were securely and tightly shut. My throat always felt dry, and the only solution was to drink water. I was continually getting up and going to the bathroom to refill my glass. Since I was up, I would check the door and the windows again to see that they were properly shut. Sometimes I forgot my fears and stayed at the window, looking at the desert stretching off into the dark. Then I went back to bed and closed my eyes, but having drunk so much water I soon had to get up again to urinate. And since I was up I would check all the locks and then stand listening to the distant sounds of the desert (the muffled hum of cars heading north or south) and looking out of the window at the night. And so on until dawn, when I could finally get some unbroken sleep, two or three hours at most.

that's like, exactly how it is for me with my nightmares. except i don't get out of bed cuz i'm paralyzed with fear.

i take micro sips of water from the bottle i leave by the bed and i hold in my pee so by the time it's morning my tummy aches and is puffed out like a balloon.



the past is like a movie that plays in my mind. it doesn't seem real but i can't turn it off.

u play the part of the hero who is always already too late.

i play the part of the girl who chews her leg off to make her escape.