"Puke." I am indeed sick. ill. infected. I shouldn't have drank last night. That was indeed a bad idea. I feel ten times worse today than I did yesterday. 10 x. All I wanna do is lay down. lay down and die. Peacefully. Without hesitation. Without pause. I don't think I've ever felt this bad before. THis sick. This diseased ridden. My heads spinning. and i just failed a test. GO ME! All I want is a fucking nap. A nap and some cookies or something. FUCKING A! I want to puke. i can feel it. that little feeling in the back of my throat. (Disgusting) I don't feel like seeing PRD today. or tomorrow. or ever again. Why? How the hell should I know. It's nice in this classroom. it's empty. [Empty = alone = coughing time] THis isn't getting any better. It's getting worse by what I can tell. The phlem, phelm, flem, or whatever is just grossing me out. One more cough and my head might just explode. 20 minutes until my next class. I hate Wilson. I hate journalism. I hate classes. I hate being ill. I hate hating. My writing in here solves nothing. It doesn't eliminate my feelings of contempt and loathing. It doesn't feed my needs. "Like whatever...with a capital Go to hell!" My heads pounding. I should've known better. (It was nicer with the lights off) I think I'll end this now. For now. UNtil I feel better. "Beam me up Scootie...oh shit." DFN.