The door won’t close and it’s cold. This is where I started. And this where I am. 

I didn’t think. That’s my one thought. I didn’t think.

I come back to the old thing about me never being here or anywhere, just a bunch of thoughts in my head, held down in the dark, in this shed, thinking I might get out, knowing I won’t, making everything else up to keep me from losing it.

I just need to get that drink in me and everything will be okay again.

That’s all I’ve got for now. It makes the most sense.