2002-01-15 || 6:11 p.m.

|| racing hearts and dilated pupils. ||

(i'm real sick. i keep trying to write about it but it just ends up sounding very melodramatic. it's the feckin flu. i don't think i've ever been so sick. but today i got out of bed. today i didn't cry about it. i think my fever may be leaving. i think i might be able to go outside soon.)

(my face is the funniest color. the freckles stand out against this greenness, this oily sick yuck. my sheets have taken on a sour old lady sick smell, hospital smell, resigned to life as a martyr smell. it is easy to achieve martyr status while very sick (one-hundred and two degrees for four days!) and living alone in an apartment that is accumulating plastic containers and cardboard packaging and various medicines at a horrific rate.)

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