The moment I got home, I stripped, put on my pajamas, crawled into bed, and stared up at the ceiling for an hour. No thoughts, head empty, the existential dread crushing me, but it felt impossible to cry at the moment.

I fell into a rather troubled sleep, waking up feeling more tired than when I went to bed, so I just laid there, even though I couldn’t fall back asleep. I didn’t really want to get up to have to face the day.

Last night felt like some fever dream ...