It's pieces of a plastic cup.  Thank you, for everything you've done for me.

My little dog's porky now and an addict.  She's got the manipulative mind and behavior, but due to mixed messages, I fear.  I'm afraid to show her some tenderness before her bedtime, because that means she's going to be eating ham.

This one time I thought I was going to die after a few days of playtime.  I was on my bed.  A few minutes earlier, I had got to what little was left on the bathroom floor, along with who knows what chemicals.  I didn't know if it was posion, or a heart attack or stroke; I couldn't move or breathe lying on my bed.  When I was standing my whole body was numb.  I kept whimpering in a voice I'll never forget, "please no, please no."  I also kept repeating, "I'm so scared, I'm so scared," in a quick, continuous drone-like monotone.  It felt like my brain had snapped.

I tried to blog "forgive me"

A few hours later I deleted it.  After that time, I got angry.  From then on, I ignored physical symptoms, cause the uncouth fucker was trying to kill playtime.

This other time I thought I had found my video.  I was worn out; I didn't know if I could go again.  Life was dragging me.  I walked into the bathroom and he was sitting on the floor.  If this was the real thing, it would trump everything.  I would have to go again.  This was the Holy Grail; then I would hang myself.  Or go to sleep, forever, waking only for awhile.  I was talking to myself in my head—I was sitting on my bathroom floor hiding with my ipad in my lap—like my father talked to me over the phone when my grandpa had died. I felt like I had my hand slightly on his shoulder when I told him.  There wasn't time for sad; it was bigger. Though here I was telling him that we had found it.  He was tired.  We had been anticipating it for some time, and it was that tip of anticipation, the moment it becomes real.  I watched it in a few more sessions, then when playtime crept up on me then I couldn't remember the title again.  When playtime went wild, this started occurring frequently, and in quick moments passing.  I would save them ferociously; some of them I didn't have time to get to.  It was always her.  Deep down, when it was over, I would bemoan the fact that I couldn't get to the other ones.  I have to see it, all of it.  I became her.  I became him. I became them together.  I knew exactly what each was thinking.  I became every sensation, every moment, and every sound she made.  I wonder if I would hang myself, if it was her.  I don't ever want to know, because I'll never stop.