when roses fall from the ceiling

25 Jan

There is no need to duck.

Hey, original title! Sweet, I am creative!

Today limped along like a lame horse (in both senses of the word.) I have something wrong with my throat, though it doesn’t hurt, and cannot laugh without wheezing weirdly. On the plus side, Ryan finally presented me with a prickly pear (delicious) and then proceeded to interrogate me about who I found attractive in the high school, a question which I was rather hesitant to answer and instead just spat out a series of “I don’t know”s that he scoffed at. “What do you mean, you don’t know? It’s your own opinion.”
But I’d like to keep that particular opinion to myself, sir.

Besides that, school passed uneventfully, then my mum came to pick me up for a doctor’s appointment. Aaand, five hours later, here I am sitting on my bed, my dog lying by my feet and looking like she’s just passed out. (I took her for a long walk.)

Did some midnight drabbles last night, let’s see if they’re readable!
==========
and other modern topics of conversation have no sense in destiny alongside the dead. Tomorrow is merely today with half a shot of scotch- our lies with noneothers’ in case of a zombie attack, I am well supplied with ninjas. I may attack you ’till the night ends, turning into the day
else I may not sleep tonight. Shock are like antler stirrel- oh that is what you are to me, an—
Merely serves to endear you in any hunted of in and underneath the hitler loves dance with an empty bar, wood slats over the top of your hand, underneath your family grew and flourished but really wasn’t all that bad. I may have broken records of honesty and terrible, lyrically axe meanies you may well me one of the awesomes fabulous things, scarves dressed into your worldly lifestyle, you could help me with an
I kind of might have eaten one of the toros on the floor. Yeah, these awesome bench wares.
=========
A surprising amount was legible, but there are still bits and pieces that I can’t read at all.

Will write more tomorrow. G’night.

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