Thursday, November 09, 2006
I hate being sick. It makes you all vulnerable and prone to mindless thoughts that makes you get even more perplexed and upset. Those endless dreams of wispy black and grey lights racing through your head, those neverending hours spent curled under the blanket seeking solace from the dark clouds and insufferable cold. The best thing is the more you want it to go away, the more it'll stay. Tell me it'll go away, tell me it'll all go away. I think a hug at this point in time will be nice.
And all the roads that lead you there were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
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