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brightrosefoxI'm so tired.
Gods, I am so tired.
My leg is on fire; my head's exploding.
I'm shifting--there's the halo-aura.
It's like phasing out into another dimension,
Where everything is twisted and reversed--the air is humming
And my screen is blue like the sky.
Is this a seizure? I can't even tell anymore. My head hurts.
Human voices make me want to scream. I don't want people to talk to me. Why can't they leave me alone? I want to be in the dark and quiet. I can't listen to anyone talk. It hurts my head. I can't talk. My tongue stumbles.
I'm confused. Things are getting distorted. I feel like I'm being pulled up my my skull. It hurts. My leg hurts. My pupils are tiny. Now they're big. I'm sweating. I'm cold. The lipstick I put on an hour ago makes my mouth look raw and chewed and huge. My face is warped.
Things hurt.
I'm so tired.
Let me sleep. Please.
Not till Monday. I have to go to hell tonight. And tomorrow. Till Mother's Day, with the smell of a thousand flowers and the screaming. Flower shop. Mother's Day. Equates: Hell.
Let me sleep.
Not till Monday.
This is going to be brutal.
Gods, I am so tired.
My leg is on fire; my head's exploding.
I'm shifting--there's the halo-aura.
It's like phasing out into another dimension,
Where everything is twisted and reversed--the air is humming
And my screen is blue like the sky.
Is this a seizure? I can't even tell anymore. My head hurts.
Human voices make me want to scream. I don't want people to talk to me. Why can't they leave me alone? I want to be in the dark and quiet. I can't listen to anyone talk. It hurts my head. I can't talk. My tongue stumbles.
I'm confused. Things are getting distorted. I feel like I'm being pulled up my my skull. It hurts. My leg hurts. My pupils are tiny. Now they're big. I'm sweating. I'm cold. The lipstick I put on an hour ago makes my mouth look raw and chewed and huge. My face is warped.
Things hurt.
I'm so tired.
Let me sleep. Please.
Not till Monday. I have to go to hell tonight. And tomorrow. Till Mother's Day, with the smell of a thousand flowers and the screaming. Flower shop. Mother's Day. Equates: Hell.
Let me sleep.
Not till Monday.
This is going to be brutal.
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-09 01:58 pm (UTC)sending you strength to get thru this weekend…
I have some idea of what this weekend is like…(Watson)