Just returned from the hospital, having lapsed into something of a coma last month. My physician says that it was an overdose. I laughed at him, naturally. He spoke to me as though I was some common drunk or similar on the street. In confession, I have consumed far more illicit substances in my life than that. I suspect that my good friend sold me poor product, or worse, that he damaged in hopes of harming me. I can’t imagine why, but he is a guarded man with guarded means.

Dean Duncan has allowed me to remain on the faculty, but has reduced my position to purely research based and interaction with the graduate students. I am not their supervisor, but I am allowed to consult them on their papers.

I’ve cleaned up the broken glass in the bathroom, but I now have no functioning mirror in which to make myself orderly. I shall have to inquire about acquiring one. I am not a sloppy man.

The one consistent nightmare plagued me this last month. I am not made uneasy by it now, simply curious. I have almost witnessed the truest version of the ritual this last week, but I do not feel I am getting all the details right. I must try to control these images.

Again, I do not call my mother today, nor any great nieces or nephews. This holiday is sickly. It makes me unable to eat, so I do not.

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