walking the line

Send help. Much needed. Right now. Hurry. Brain is in euphoria. I can't be too happy. I can't be too sad. I can't think. Can't think. Just now I saw this story I'm about to finish writing and I thought, this story is pretty damn good, considering I had written it in this half-wounded state I've been in in the last month. I really grinded out this story. Yet I like the story as it is now. I quite like it. Earlier today I produced this unpolished paragraph:

They are infected by a kind of reservation that makes them dip their heads awkwardly. Passers-by would not notice this. But to the two of them, it’s so beautiful; to Carson, especially, whose head is filled with excitement and questions. Later he would laugh at his dwindliness, for he knew from the very beginning that there couldn’t have been another ending to what has already started.