Still alive, and rolling my eyes at the psychosomatic fireworks going on inside me. Ever since this nervous breakdown triggered in the spring my ailments have all turned into blooming drama queens. My illnesses have become incredibly intense and exaggerated, pushing the definition of "sub-clinical" to the limits. Suffice to say that the current round of seeing how far complications from the flu can really mess up your period has left me with plenty of source material to write some spectacular gory first person body horror in the incredibly unlikely event that I should get a yen to write such a thing.
It would be a hypochondriac's wet dream, but since I'm not a hypochondriac it's just incredibly irritating. All the recently uncovered pain and trauma of my childhood is seeping up, out, and looking for ways to manifest.
"All?" Well, I hope so. Of course it's quite likely to be just "most" or even "some". I can hope it's "all" at any rate.
Anyway, blogging will resume when my guts calm down a bit.
It would be a hypochondriac's wet dream, but since I'm not a hypochondriac it's just incredibly irritating. All the recently uncovered pain and trauma of my childhood is seeping up, out, and looking for ways to manifest.
"All?" Well, I hope so. Of course it's quite likely to be just "most" or even "some". I can hope it's "all" at any rate.
Anyway, blogging will resume when my guts calm down a bit.
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