I’m curled up in a fetal position in the corner of my living room. It’s past midnight. All of my lights are off, save for my television, which is playing some children’s cartoon. It has a talking dog. I think the dog is yelling at me. “You stupid motherfucker! This is why nobody likes you!” They let this on a kid’s show?

There’s a knocked over bottle of pills on the floor. I don’t know many I took, but it was enough to hurt. My body doesn’t want to move. I’m seeing colors that I can’t describe. Are they even real? That fucking dog is at it again. “Aw fuck! Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry! Goddammit!” The dog is breaking down into tears. I feel bad for him.

I’m getting really tired. I want to go to sleep, but the cartoon dog jumps out of the tv and starts grabbing me. “I don’t want to fucking lose you! Please, stay awake!” I try my best not to, but I get sick all over him. I want to apologize, but the words don’t come out, so I just hope that my stare can get my point across. It doesn’t.

The dog says nothing now. Just holds me close and sobs, stopping only to spit out, “Goddammit,” at himself. I want to comfort him, as he’s doing for me. But I can’t. All I can do is close my eyes.

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