If I don’t tell anyone, nobody will know how I live these days. It’s basically like this: sleep, sleep, eat a bit, drink more, watch tv and sleep again.,, with a dash of  work. It’s not much of a life but it’s what I’ve got for now. Often, I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. It’s a struggle to hang on. But I do. And nobody knows how unraveled I have become. Or do they? It’s probably obvious in my manner, my lack of focus, my tendency to tear up, my inability to walk very well. I’m constantly reminded of the scene in Melancholia where Kirsten Dunst tells her father she is having trouble walking…. I feel that way almost every minute of the day. A delicate thread keeps me tethered to this world.