93.

There is a part of my life I do not understand. Whenever it appears all I know is that it's horribly cold and bitter. I feel hungry and thirsty and yet utterly at peace during these times. There is a tarp over my head and sometimes when this happens I think I've lost a body part. I move my eyes as much as I can and I see a pair of hands moving, as though dissecting me. I feel terror well up in my throat and I want to throw up a scream but nothing appears. I fade and I appear again in this region of my life. I assume it's a surgery I had to undergo, but I am not sure.

All I know is that at this point I am one with myself, for however briefly it is.