77: If there's a reason I'm still alive when so many have died

I told my therapist how obsessed I've been with Hamilton, how vital it has been these past few days. She nodded knowingly, as if she also can't stop sing-whispering "Wait for it! Wait for it!" at various points throughout the day. Or maybe she has a bunch of other patients who have told her the same thing. It's a common affliction, I've heard. 

"I don't know what to say," I slurred in Eric's direction. He is gamely playing with Eve, who is riotously awake when all we want is to sleep. He told me to talk about delirium.

"Don't you feel delirious?" he queried. I do. My head is heavy and full of cotton. My eyes are always dry. My mind is racing and sluggish at the same time. My limbs lag. I forget words a lot. 

This is all I can muster today. This is starting to feel like a war diary. Life from the trenches.