Wow.
What a week.
I'm still alive, barely. Somewhere between Martini night and total despair, I think I've found something. Some hole in the stress to curl up in, between shifts of stomach-wrenching anxiety, and the sickening smoothness that I pass through with.
The illness seems to have subsided to the odd case of wheezing, and the occassional bout of dry hacking. The doc said that's normal.
I know normal. Four hours of sleep a night, dying attention span, the desire to relentlessly play guitar, and the constant hunger but never eating; this is not normal.
So why then, am I having so much fun?
2 comments:
No. No blood, not really much of anything. It's just aggravated, I think.
You have the most fun when you least expect it.
I wouldn't know a thing about attention span; I spend three hours studying and realize I've read 15 pages. Last week it was 5 hours and 10 pages. At least I'm doing better...
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