11*3*02 what to do with my sunday
the parental units are overly talkative even when they're in a different state. when i'm older, i hope i never talk so much that my children want to cut their ears/all the components in it out of their pretty little heads. this afternoon after i woke from 12 hours of sleep, i tried to move my right arm. it moved as if it were filled with jell-o and not nerves and muscles. it just sort of, well, flopped. i'm cold. maybe i should put on some clothes.
regress /progress
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