And so, the viruses return for the commencement of hostilities. To conquest my withering body, with their infectious capsids. The pleasure they take in running havoc inside of me, jumping manically from cell to cell excreting numerous amounts of virus particles. They watch and wait as the particles divide and multiply slowly bringing each cell to lysis.
The ill-equipped cell uses all its might to keep from bursting, but the viruses are smart. They know it won’t last long devoid of a cell wall. So they smirk, and multiply until the poor, helpless cell cries with pain and gives in. As its fragile membrane severs, the offending particles are liberated. Free to roam the labyrinth that is my body, leaving devastation in their wake.
Damn my verbal skills are plummeting. Is it possible to lose a talent so quickly? Yes, yes it is since I’ve lost my talent for drawing. I blame the universe. It won’t inspire me. I’d like to re-iterate my previous words; I WANT SOMETHING TO FRICKING HAPPEN. Okay minus the fricking but you see where I’m coming from? I can’t write, I can’t paint, I can’t play, I can’t sing, I can’t box. What the frack CAN I do?!
SOMEONE INSPIRE ME, DAMN YOU!
I shan’t agonize myself into a fever filled delirium. It’ll all be over soon. The world will end and I’ll have nothing to worry about cause I’ll be dead.
How does one get over that feeling of perpetual yearning after someone leaves? Maybe I just need to be whacked across the head and told ''GET OVER IT, THEY LEFT''
Yeap, I’m so over it. Flabberoaches.
The ill-equipped cell uses all its might to keep from bursting, but the viruses are smart. They know it won’t last long devoid of a cell wall. So they smirk, and multiply until the poor, helpless cell cries with pain and gives in. As its fragile membrane severs, the offending particles are liberated. Free to roam the labyrinth that is my body, leaving devastation in their wake.
Damn my verbal skills are plummeting. Is it possible to lose a talent so quickly? Yes, yes it is since I’ve lost my talent for drawing. I blame the universe. It won’t inspire me. I’d like to re-iterate my previous words; I WANT SOMETHING TO FRICKING HAPPEN. Okay minus the fricking but you see where I’m coming from? I can’t write, I can’t paint, I can’t play, I can’t sing, I can’t box. What the frack CAN I do?!
SOMEONE INSPIRE ME, DAMN YOU!
I shan’t agonize myself into a fever filled delirium. It’ll all be over soon. The world will end and I’ll have nothing to worry about cause I’ll be dead.
How does one get over that feeling of perpetual yearning after someone leaves? Maybe I just need to be whacked across the head and told ''GET OVER IT, THEY LEFT''
Yeap, I’m so over it. Flabberoaches.
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