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July 3, 2008
My social phobia strangled me today. It was unbearable, to be a prisoner. I could not make myself go out, avoided phone calls like the plague, and bit into stale food, breathing my own recycled air. My eyes ached from the strain of doing nothing, and my legs itched to move; but I ground myself into bed, throwing back the sheets and lying exposed as the need made me feel feverish. I spread my lips in a sigh and rolled over, tasting sweaty fabric, and then, finally, I could touch upon sleep and dreams, that which I always long for.