The baggie of white cheddar popcorn could save my life, but it’s no use. It’s right there on the table, a few feet away, and I cannot reach it.
(it’s only a slight stretch. we can do it.)
And aggravate my back? I can barely breathe, shallowly, lying perfectly still.
(we have to do something. we’ll starve if we wait here for help.)
And if I move I risk permanent paralysis. I just have to hold on. Somehow.Continue reading “Journaling June: Damnable Delusions”