I don't want to see anyone. I lie in the bedroom with the curtains drawn and nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. I have done something wrong, something so huge I can't even see it, something that's drowning me. I am inadequate and stupid, without worth. I might as well be dead.
Winning intoxicates you, and numbs you to the sufferings of others.
Anaesthesia, that's one technique: if it hurts, invent a different pain.
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