what do you do when you're thinking about death and in the next room over your roommate and her boyfriend who haven't spoken to you in months are playing christmas carols in the living room you never enter, sharing days, sharing food, plugging colourful lights into the wall. what do you do when the world still turns and people are happy all around you and you're trying to decide if it's worth waking up tomorrow. what do you do when your ex-girlfriend steals whatever friends you had left and cuts her hair and finds new life, and everybody forgets that you used to be whole, and every muscle in your body stops trying to hold you up. what do you do when your room's too hot and you slide the window all the way up, and the november wind makes your door shake in its frame, and the thick layers of paint on paint stick and unstick to each other and you wish it wouldn't make sound, because the sound is proof that you're still alive to hear it. opening windows, hiding behind doors. rattling. the wind blows strong and i feel myself ending. there's little reason left to try again.