it's almost over

i go through 5 trashy magazines in quick succession. i watch 2 movies in a row without stopping or breathing or thinking. colours and sounds go into my eyes and ears, but they stop before they sink in. at the end i couldn't tell you what the main character of the movie was or anything about the magazines except that i think the pages with food and writing are called recipes.

i sleep and sleep and when i wake up i watch 37 minutes of p.s. i love you. i cry the whole way through. i turn it off.

i sit in my room with an unmade bed and piles of clothes and books and dirty dishes and a cup filled with 4 day old hot chocolate that has turned the colour of puke.

i cry again.

i am a widow who has lost the husband she never had.