Good? Good.

I’m doing okay, I think.

I’m getting sick, and my body feels like death warmed over, but I’m okay.

It’s nice to be okay.

So I had a bad day, it happens.

Still good.

Today I saw this guy I used to like, and my thought process went exactly like this:

Don’t let him see me.
Sick.
Pee.
Nice shirt.
Where’d he go?
Plan, plan, plan.
Pee.
Oooh, that smelled good.
Nice shirt.
My hair is ugly.
sick.
pee.
Please don’t let us see each other.
He’s gone.
Oh, I didn’t get to talk to him.

That’s about the level my minds been working on for 24 hours.

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