Nausea is killing me right now. I guess this is my body’s reaction towards my environement, towards the crap I keep taking on.
My skin is getting paler by the minute as the blood has decided to take a detour, and concentrate on feeding my heart only. A desperate attempt to rescue what’s left good in me, although terribly scarred.
I’m lying on my bed starring at the ceiling, while my eyes are playing tricks on me in the obscurity of the room. My lungs breath in the waving smoke coming from the cigarette I’ve forgotten in the ashtray on the night counter, giving my brain the needed drugs to cope with its ineffectiveness in sorting things out, in solving the problems…
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