One day she’s going to just lie down

A field of stomachaches, each of them buried under tiny mounds of damp earth.  In my hands, the largest shovel you have ever seen.  Paul Bunyan is in awe of this shovel.  It’s a wonder I am even lifting it.  Everyone lol’s at this shovel and how I am never using it to dig up all the stomachaches.  HOW WILL YOU EVER PLOW THE FIELD, DEBRA?  ONE SHOVELFULL WILL DO THE JOB, DEBRA.  JUST SCOOP, DEBRA AND THEN YOU’LL BE ON YOUR WAY.  WINTER IS COMING, DEBRA. YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO PLANT ANYTHING, DEBRA, UNLESS YOU REMOVE ALL THE BLIGHT FROM YOUR FIELD.  USE YOUR HUGE SHOVEL, DEBRA.  ONE SCOOP, DEBRA.  DON’T BE AFRAID, DEBRA.

 

DEBRA

 

DEBRA

 

DEBRA

 

2019 is tomorrow.  Let’s all pray for Debra.  She really needs to get to that field or else she’s going to keep starving.  See how she’s whittled away?  It’s super sad and hysterical.  Maniacal laugh funny.  The kind where the madness has kicked in and thoughts are in that Roomba loop of wall-bashing, turn, wall bashing, turn, wall bashing, turn and nothing more will ever get clean.  Debra is scared all of the time.  The stomachaches pulse most at night. They send her all they have and their infection rattles inside her brain preventing sleep.  In the morning, she thinks, in the morning it will be better.  I’ll use that shovel, I will.  But she never does.  She loves the stomachaches too much.  I guess. 

 

Guys, I am REALLY worried about Debra.  I don’t know how much longer she’s gonna last.  She said something to me once about how might the earth feel if wrapped around her. Something about the glory of giving up. I…don’t know anymore. I just don’t.