perhaps the most unexciting and bad piece of writing i have produced in recent months but i have no ideas and especially no good ones. cant even write a normal self so i had to make do with the one incomplete idea i did eventually have. im tired boss



He puked. This was his second attempt today to get his body to accept any nutrients, and it had failed. The second day of nothing. After an agonizing few minutes trying to calm his physical form back down, he got a towel from the bathroom and let it soak in the horrid broth on the floor, but he would much have preferred simply going back to bed and leaving everything as it was. The energy used for scrubbing would have been much more useful had it been used for surviving, but there wasn't much to survive for - the likelihood he would ever actually get to live again was as close to zero as it could get without making him jump out of his tenth story apartment window.

Though, by now, climbing out of a window already felt like it would be a nearly impossible feat. He had been starving for weeks, and wasn't exactly a healthy weight before then either. Plain water might stay in his body, but such a thing as juice, or even a true meal with solid foods inside, was about as easy to consume as a whole bar of soap. He didn't know why.

It was important to him that he would at least try, as hard as it may be, to fight against this disease, whichever disease it might be. Daily attempts at eating something besides water, frequent calls with a doctor who couldn't find anything wrong, hospital visits that went nowhere. No luck.