Since yesterday morning I’ve had a rather unpleasant time, let me tell you.

I have spent a lot of time in the bathroom and I do not want to spend another minute there, but alas, soon I will have to return. Soon I will be returning to my porcelain throne and once more I will be performing an outpouring for which I really do not want to do.

I’m done. I’m over it. I need this to stop. It is beyond a joke at this point.

I want to cry. I want to cry and curl up into a fetal position and forget about everything and just cry for a while. I’m in pain and I’m done with this continuing dance between the struggle to stop going to the toilet and the struggle to stop feeling pain.

It is ongoing and it is unnecessary. Some might say that it is verbose and what I would have to say to that is that I agree. This is a verbose drama that has gone on for far too long and all I wish for at this stage is for the dancing to stop. I want all to come to rest and I want to be able to rest. I don’t want to be doing this anymore.

I feel as though since yesterday I have now lived more than a thousand lives. It has been a short time, but so much has happened and so much has passed, and it seems like none of this will abate any time soon. Right now I’m sitting here and I am okay, but soon I will have to return to the bathroom for another round of punishment and I don’t know if I can take any more of this.

I don’t know if I have anything left in me to keep on going through this process of emptying. However, I do know that I don’t have much, if any say in the matter. If it keeps on going, then I am going to have to keep on experiencing it. I can try to fight, but there is only so much that I can do.

At this point I can only imagine that this will eventually let up and I will be freed from this ongoing torture and finally be allowed to resume my getting on with my life. I hope this happens sooner rather than later, for soon I will start passing memories, hopes and desires and then what will I be? Will I be anything other than an empty husk, left to stare off into nothingness, devoid of will or desire or anything resembling personality. It will all be gone, but the toilet will remain eternal. Its familiarity will be a warm reminder of vague feelings of days long past and yet, try as I might, I will never be able to figure those out.

They will be lost to time, having long been flushed into the piping and washed out to some distant location.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:06:21

Probably a bit too dramatic, but I feel it works.

Written at home