A Collection of Spectacles

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Staring deeply into the pit of a flower (at a perceived 2x magnification) painted on the cotton comforter, I am aware of all of someone’s faults, yet I’m not bothered enough to leave. It is morning.

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I’m a little sick. I was more sick last night and this morning, (I had a fever this morning) but I took a lot of nyquil and slept everything away. Drug induced sleep is really dumb, pointless. It’s dreamless, numbing like real sleep with all the excitement and creativity taken out. The entire time I kept thinking, My liver is going to fall off, because I know how bad acetaminophen is for it. Anyway, Claire brought me steamed vegetables because she’s the nicest person ever, and I called her Mom a billion times. My real Mom brought me a doughnut. This is all really pointless and I’m kind of just posting to post. 

In other news: I’m kind of alone, but I don’t want to get too close to anyone. I end up constantly frustrated as a result. I wish someone would just fall out of the sky and be perfect. 

I may post more later. I’m not sure.

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