I feel ill. I don't want to be here. I don't want to exist in this capacity any longer. Yuck. Thank you for your mails. They cheered me. I want to be cheerful for you and for everyone else (mostly just for you) but I don't think I have the energy. I slept twelve hours and I"m so tired. I wonder what's wrong with me, if it's this place or my head or maybe my mattress is too soft? The color of the rug in here is profoundly sad right this minute. My skin is profoundly thick and gummy. I don't know what I need for my sanity, and I hope it isn't those little green and white pills. I'm sick of taking those, but every time I stop taking them, I find them back in my hand. But I think it might not be that, it might be something else, because you aren't happy here, and I know other people who aren't happy here, and I don't think we all need little pills. So it must be something else...