I lay awake in a pool of sweat, unable to sleep, a mantra running through my head: I am a piece of shit and I deserve to die. I am a piece of shit and I deserve to die. I am a piece of shit and I deserve to die. Time stopped. By the middle of the night, I was convinced day would never come again. The thoughts of death were all around me; I realized then that they had begun the summer before, like a small trickle in a creek where I had gone wading. Since then, the water had been steadily rising. Now it was deep and fast and slowly threatening to cover my head.
