The A-Bomb

The air the I breathe seems to carry no oxygen in it, only a thick sludge. The first four hours of every morning these past 7 days has felt like a biblical hangover.

Is the “nausea circle” a ring in Dante’s inferno? It should be. I’m going to toss that in between the people who have to eat their own shit and the sad, spooky, unbaptised babehs.

I also have constant heart burn that sears with fire of a thousand suns!!

Every thing that involves moving takes monumental energy. I’m mostly able to sit in pajamas and whine.

How the fuck do unwed teenage mothers get up everyday and go to homeroom with this shit??

The good news is my mom was all like, and I’m paraphrasing here,:

“Nu uh!! You ain’t going to be alone. I’m flying out.”

I’m happy she’s coming but I got used to the idea of being on my own. Kind of like a sick dog likes to crawl under the poorch. Quiet and undisturbed.

I most liked the idea of not having to react to anyone elses emotions during the whole thing. I was just going to roll all Virginia Woolf and shit, with a room of one’s own.

Shouldn’t complain though. My mom could have made me keep and then pawned it off as her own in an isane move to save her political career. Am I right people, am I right ? Thought so.