Sick

I have been sick for 21 days.

I have come to accept that I will never

know what it is like to wake up and not

feel like I'm dying.

And one day.

It will be true.

And I've planned my funeral.

Some little girls plan their wedding.

Meh, I'm more likely to die.

Enter... people...

Perfect Day – Lou Reed.
Parents, sisters, B and M say a small speech, something nice about me…
L will read my “eulogy (panégyrique) personnel”

in beat poet style in her American accent.
L will then sit down and my casket will be lowered.

Where do you go to (my lovely) – Peter Sarstedt. (rpt…)
Exit… people…

So this M moving here business is so hard.

I was telling B last night, that I didn't know whether to

book flights, book "a ticket" or "tickets" to Martha Wainwright...

It's not just about me anymore.

I wonder if

...like when you've broken up with someone,

and you're devistated and lose weight and can't concentrate etc...

whether, I'll be like that when my lover lives with me.

Like mourning the loss of my single-life?

Probably.

I'm weird like that.

I just found this post in my saved items.
I'm not sure who the L who will read my eulogy is.

Are you lonesome tonight?

I slept in today,
so I called in Sick.

My back has been killing me all day
and I'm about to take a billion pain killers
just so it can go the fuck away.
OUCH.

I think I'm a bit lonely,
bored,
but not bored?
Depressed?
Who knows.
I'm reading education and art history
and its interesting.
I'm also reading Betraying Hitler,
and a manifesto that has no title and no author.

Still though
company and distractions,
would be pretty awesome right now.

Other than Skype, I mean!

(Read: Physical).