Plathological

process

Hi. I've been writing a story all day. Therefore, I have been at my computer all day. Except for that hour where I decided to take a break and prostrated myself under micro fleece on my couch, devastated over sentence structure and how can I write this story it's too much emotion I should just drop out I obviously can't hack it blah blah etc., and Jaxon comes home, with his fucking sister to show me his new suit and I don't even get up, I just sort of weakly gaze up at him, eyes barely focusing, and say, Oh, cool, and hide my whole body, head included, under what's left of the blanket. Grunge rock blasting by the speaker over my head. From what I was able to see before I submerged myself facedown into my rabbit hole (which wasn't much, since the only light on in the place glimmered faintly from my desk lamp), his sister seemed kind of freaked out--there are overflowing ashtrays and loose papers all over the floor. What the fuck, I said I needed The Whole Day. At least he left quickly. Very, very quickly. Whatever. Everyone thinks I'm a fucking lunatic and I really have nothing to say for myself. Like: he comes home at my dizziest point?? I didn't even have the strength to glare. I hope I have the strength to finish this story. I've written a lot (2000 words or so) and, for the first time in a long, long time, the character's main focus are her emotions.