Not for the weak of stomach.

There's nothing that quite matches puking at four in the morning. Nothing else makes you feel quite so lonely, scared, miserable, and awful. I'm sure there are worse feelings in the world; I know it, there are plenty. Losing a loved one, losing a limb, losing the superbowl, they all have their own special levels of depression and pain to go along with them. But in none of them do you wind up saying 'God damn it, now I've got to clean this up.'

I'm sick. I'm sick. It sucks. I don't want to be sick.I don't want to be anything. I'm quite ready to just... fade away into the aether now. I'm sick enough that this short post about me being sick was interrupted by me running off to be sick. I don't really have anything else to say. Oh... my light buned out. Just to make things perfect, I'm sitting in the harsh light of my desklamp, as an alternative to darkness. And I ruined a towel. And my throat hurts. And I doubt I'll get to sleep anytime soon.

Am I just pity whoring at this point? Yes! Give me your damn pity, please, I feel like hell.