We gave Abba another little shower. He is happy, but also dissociated. Me too. That’s the effect of this house. Cameras. Weirdo. Mold. Eyes.
Abba has a growing tumor and I don’t know how to deal with this. I have selfish reasons, that are practical to an extent. I wish he was feeling better. I’m glad he loves the sun.
Spirits lifting me high and above, and I will crash into the same fate. Maybe.
I stop now, and I will move out faster. I have to leave a lot behind and that’s scary. It’s easier to sense the pain in my body because then I can leave it. Imagine the future and live forever.
But when I move out, I know I’ll feel miles better. Mile better. I can’t leave for some reason.
I need some time to think.
Pajolo Cam 
say something!