last night was filled with cold chills and heavy breathing. i kept fading in and out of dreams, getting lost on campus trying to find teresa's building, getting lost in the arena trying to find teresa's match against hulk hogan, getting lost in my bed trying to find a balance between comfort and agony. the slippers are making my feet too warm but when i take them off they freeze. i haven't been this sick in a while. i talk about being sick because it is all i can talk about right now. it's all that i know. i'm listening to the rapture again trying to think of long entries and interesting stories but all i can think about is how sick i feel. the cigarettes don't help at all, i was a fool to even smoke one yesterday let alone two. the weed didn't help either. if anything could convince me to stop smoking altogether it would be how my lungs feel at this exact moment. i feel like i could be slowly suffocating and i wouldn't even know because i've become so used to dirty lungs

i know you don't like sleeping with someone else starfish but is it okay if i just lay on the ground all sprawled out and sort of hop in right before you wake up? i'll put chapstick and flowers in your arms so you can wake up bearing all sorts of gifts. the potatoes will be sizzling in a pan and i'll be sizzling with my looks (holding a cup of orange juice to our foreheads, right now i would love to because i feel like someone is tugging my face over my head)

my arms feel weak, i feel it in my chest and legs too. runny nose stuffy nose it doesn't stop. and i just want to write or go work but who would hire a sick boy with wild hair (it has been washed but slept on so it looks like a giant frizzball with holes in the middle) and who would want to read a story by someone who wasn't at their best?

so many cups of tea aren't helping