{Disastrous}

I can’t eat. [Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I can eat–I can always eat.] What I mean to say is, I can’t enjoy what I eat. I am unable to relax. Food has lost its flavour; salt has lost its savour.

I can’t sleep, either. [Okay, I can sleep. I can always sleep.] But my sleep is not peaceful and deep like usual. It is constantly being interrupted by nightmares and hideous hallucination-like episodes. I wake up in cold sweats. Not even the thick luxurious bedding of our Holiday Inn Suites in Great Falls, Montana can keep me sedated.

I’m in a bad way.


I’ve been married almost five months to the day, and I haven’t written a single thank-you note. Not one.


I haven’t even gotten them printed.

About Camille

I'm Camille. I have a butt-chin. I live in Canada. I was born in Arizona. I like Diet Dr. Pepper. Hello. You can find me on Twitter @archiveslives, Facebook at facebook.com/archivesofourlives, instagram at ArchivesLives, and elsewhere.
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