Blegh

I hate being sick.

Been experiencing a huge urge to throw a super loud, immature tantrum the past week.

but once more, our internal voice of reason stops us.

The voice that stops us from putting our hands into the cooking stove fire just to see how flammable we are.

The voice that stops us from punching our friends when they're talking to us.
(Come on, don't tell me you ain't never had the urge to for absolutely no reason, slug the shit out of a friend talking to you?)

The voice that stops you from throwing an expensive possession like a handphone, electronic music device or any other electronic possession out of a high storey just to see how it breaks.

Stats of my illness.

Tuesday: Felt mild pain in throat. Felt mildly pissed at virtual events involving anally retentive people and vietnamese.

Wednesday: returned to school for a meeting, stoned my way through with some random talk with vincent. Think I was made president. in the words of sabrina. BAHHHHH.

Thursday: Turdsday blargh. Felt horrible throughout the day, returned home to find a fantastic temperature of 39.5 degrees.

Friday: Full blown sickness. I would have been rampaging around complaining if the internal voice didn't stop me. and my throat that felt like it was stabbed by a rusty salt encrusted knife with serrated edges and ornate jewels decorating it's hilt as well as a very nice gold finish on the handle.

Took a cab home. lay on bed to whine to myself and anybody i saw online.

Saturday, today. Lay in bed the whole day. feeling sorry for myself. took own temperature. forgot it. Everything I touched. including my bed, seemed to be on fire after 3 seconds of contact with my skin. zilch appetite the whole day, only ate a scoop of fish porridge.

and thus, I end my post of self pity. fuck you the judgmental motherfucker who can't see any right in stuff other people do.




Sing me something soft,
Sad and delicate,
Or loud and out of key.
Sing me anything,

-Existentialism on prom night
-Straylight run