by Kurt Halsey

If, in the natural course of conversation with me, I reveal to you that I might be possibly considering allowing myself to be dragged out to any kind of mass social situation, kindly burn my flesh with a white-hot clothes hanger heated on a stove burner.

I have made colossal errors in judgement in the past 2 weeks. I threw myself into near-hermitude at a perceived avalanche of failure and regret, then used that near-hermitude to justify resurgences of behavior from my past life. I ignored gut feelings and allowed myself to fall into the situation I’ve dreaded most for these past few months.

It can’t happen again.

Do not ask me to go to that place again.

Stab me if I seem to forget these directives.

Stab me either way. I probably deserve it.