I have spent the majority of the past twenty-four hours in bed wanting to kill myself. No, not depression. Flu. I'm still trying to figure out what can make a girl puke lime green.
I wish I had more to write, I really do. But I'm going to go puke again.
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3 comments:
Puking is sort of like writing.
In that I do both with alarming frequency.
Get better, please.
Maybe you ate lots of lime skittles. Or lots of spinach and radiation that made it mutantly green.
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