Slept in till ten. That’s sleeping in for me now, how pathetic. Also went to bed before sundown, on a weekend. It’s afternoon now. All I’ve done is torture myself. First by waking up from a dream where we still seshed together. Then I avoided getting up and going to the bathroom long as I could. There’s no food or water readily available, which is a good enough excuse for me to neither eat nor bathe.

I normally hesitate to open the door to my room, to go outside, drive somewhere in this horrible summer heat. Don’t even want to get out of bed. It took hours of mental preparation just to stand upright and hide my nudity under the too large robe I always wear when I cannot bother putting on proper clothes. It’s slipping and sliding in the worst places, but somehow I find it easier to manage than a t-shirt and pants.

When I’m not thinking about how my hand felt as we slayed AI's together, I busy myself picking each battle apart. Pinpointing the instances where things went wrong, what could have I done different? Maybe I deserve this. I was a bitch. Should have been more tolerant of their fumbles, understood. That’s a lie, I did nothing if not mold myself to their fighting style. So much, now I can barely recognize my own. I hate this apartment, hate my pain addled, struggle stricken life before them, and everything that will come after seems too difficult to bother with. Normalize storming that tech bro dungeon solo right now. Using all the will left in me to convince myself it won’t work. Already tried this a few times before. Everyone else is worried, but I don’t care.

Their best friend texted me at eight last night, asking if I was ok. I wanted to talk, but deleted it. No words will help. Woke up at witching hour as has become the norm, crazed by all my mistakes. There was a text from a number I don’t recognize, with a similar question. Can’t remember the exact words. Deleted that too, before I could commit many details to memory. But afterward I drove myself crazy trying to figure out who it had been. Nobody contacts me at that hour except them, and some horny spam bots. I’d have recognized those numbers.

It was probably one of their squad mates. I miss them. Shoulda told them all the shitty things. Warn them of how they're being hacked. They probably know. They’ve been underground long before I came into this, and in time I’ll just be another one of those usernames they mention in passing. I tell myself I’m the best one, the deadliest and fastest. They are lucky to have fought alongside me, and I can only hope they miss me just as much as I miss them. But it doesn’t matter. I was chewed up and spit out all the same.  

Sometimes I break free, momentarily not consumed by thoughts of them. Instead I stress over the fact that I should be taking advantage of this day off. I should be getting the rations dad keeps asking for, replace the solar panels on his car. Take my own car to get checked out by the mechanic. It’s been making a weird noise and not charging properly. Can’t afford to have it break down and miss another day of work. I’ve already used up most of my sick hours.