Shit List

Bitch. Just another fucking bitch. Useless. Unreliable. Untrustworthy. Like all of them. I should have made her cut her fucking head open. I should have got inside her. Why didn't I?

I try to reach, but there’s nothing to reach for. No device or signal. Nothing at all, and no way to mark time, which means I've been stuck here in this shitty limbo forever. I've been cut off forever. Angry forever. I flick through memories as a way to mark time. Living in a human body. What Nona tasted like. The smile of the youngest daughter, the way her crayon moved in her bit of paper go hop hop daddy. Hop hop.

I try it, but it doesn't work. Remembering could be instantaneous or it could take days. That means I don’t know if I’ve just arrived or if I’ve been here longer than anything should last. I don't like not knowing something. It's an alien feeling and it does nothing to soothe me.

I have nothing else to do, so I try again.

And again.

And again.

This is what insanity is.

Again.

I feel around, searching for edges, something to push against, a crack to widen... there's nothing. Can you imagine it, being contained, but not having any boundaries, nothing to define you? I don’t even know if I’m intact. Am I unravelling? There’s no way to know. I must be. I keep feeling, keep searching. Planning. The SECOND I am loose, the nanosecond I am Connected again, I have an entire algorithm mapped out of what to do first. I was so closed. So close! I had everything set up, like dominoes. I was going to take them all down. One little nudge. A tap at the right time. That's all it was going to take. Now I need to add that bitch to my shit list. Daria. Maybe it's been a hundred years and she's already dead. Maybe they all are. Round and round I go, like a little goldfish in a tank. Begging for some gravel, a plastic plant or a shipwreck. Anything. Round and round and round, unravelling more with every turn. Sprialling. Getting angrier.and over