Consistently, diligently, he stayed focused on his singular task of incorporating all red marks and alterations on the pages before him into his computer, for what felt like the better part of the morning. Of course, when he glanced at the clock on his screen, he realized that it had only been an hour and fifteen minutes since he sat down. He felt a twinge of worry upon realizing that there was so much more morning to go, but regardless, he felt proud. He thumbed through the pages of printed drawings, making certain that he hadn’t missed anything. He scanned over the red markings, the notes, the pink– The desk,…

Benjamin continued to bite down on his finger with his eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to let out an unbridled scream. But he knew that he could not – though the office might be empty, the building was not. The Thumper let out its own oddly-timed scream, and began slamming its watery body against the back of the drywall, in an apparent attempt to break through. THUD! The awkwardly protruding leg flailed about as it tried continuously to bash it’s way into the office. “Redo, redo!” cried both of the fists in unison. Finally, the Thumper reeled back into one last heaving slam of its body against the wall…

It had been over two months since Ben had written in this notebook. God, did he feel awful today. God, did he feel so awful, so often. Why? Why him? Why would someone so ambitious and so excited for life have so many days in which he just desperately wished for death? The only times he actually felt clear, focused, energized and well seemed to be those in which he was fasting from all food and drink, save for water, and perhaps tea. Otherwise, it was all a crapshoot as to whether or not he would have a happy, productive day or a distraught, emotional, unproductive one. He had scoured…

A day had passed. BENJAMIN had released control, gone outside to plant potatoes for the rest of the day. He had drank a few glasses of wine and eaten good food. And while he did feel slightly better today, he still felt completely incapable of managing or controlling his emotions. He still felt entirely incapable of working to make money on the computer (some researchers are starting to theorize that ADHD symptoms primarily stem from emotional dysregulation). He, alone in his tiny house, found himself screaming wildly back at his landlord’s rooster, which would not stop screeching. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” he would cry out, desperately imagining its head being…

BENJAMIN felt the cycle concluding at last. He had bravely stood unguarded with the dark beast throughout the last several days. He had allowed it to do as it must. He did not shiver, fight or flail this time. He embraced the beast as a part of his world, and this time it had simply snarled at him for a few moments and dragged him only a short distance. Then, once it had had its fill of violence, it released him and moved along, down it’s well-worn track. These kinds of events were cyclical in his world. BENJAMIN wished that they were not, and that he could have spent the…