Don't Read If Distress Distresses You
I'm laying here in bed, nauseous, dizzy, trying to read if not sleep. My lungs feel weird. My female parts feel as though a UTI is heading into port. My eyes can't stop their watering. My lungs wheeze every so often.
This all has me saying outloud, albeit quietly, "Please let me die, I feel I can't take much more." I say it quietly, so as to not disturb even a hair in my home.
I've written a little more and there's still much more to be put out of my brain and into the universe on a piece of paper. Step-by-step, eh?
Yay.