drunken blanketless sleep in a cold room+
sparse resting+cigarettes+allergies+asthma=negligence x circumstance=sick

my mom has been having ominous dreams of my death which has given rise to a strengthening consensus in my home that there is something terribly wrong with me. last night i was in my bed staring at the postcard of john cleese i have taped to the ceiling breathing laboredly and dwelling on the possibility of my death. i had actually just returned from my grandmas funeral so death is a hot topic in my brain. i fell asleep.

and woke up five hours later surrounded by the fog of death sentiment. and the morning dragged in that minor key.

All I felt like doing this morning as I grappled for vibrating tones through squinted eyes while rubbing last night's mascara off my cheeks was to throw my phone across the room and tell it to go to hell. Which is exactly what I ended up doing. Pile on skipping school and hazelnut coffee and you've got yourself a perfect day of sticking it to the man. I need to do this more often.