Goodnight, or good morning, or whatever this is. I survived. I woke up three hours later with my phone on my chest and this draft open. I have no memory of writing the "I am the soup" line, but honestly? It tracks. Stay safe out there, friends. Pics Better: Mature Mom Sex
If you are reading this, I have successfully survived the night. But right now, in this moment, I am a prisoner of the early morning hours, held captive by a virus that seems to have a personal vendetta against my throat and a deep interest in my internal thermostat. Instart Instrumentation Course Ch 5 Leve Link | Level Of A
The Fever Dream Diaries: What I Wrote at 4 AM While Positive for COVID
They say that creativity strikes at the most unexpected times. Usually, that’s a metaphor. Tonight, it is a biological imperative. I cannot sleep. I cannot breathe through my nose. The Mucinex is fighting the NyQuil in a gladiatorial arena inside my stomach, and the resulting energy is a weird, vibrating hum that demands to be typed out.