Sick in bed. Bored. Head and joints hurts and i think of dad as i always do when sick. My dad being sick is my childhood standard of being sick. Moping around in a robe with the nose smeared in white paste looking like the end of the world.
Im not more stylish, no one does sick pretty. I lay here and stare at the wall. Too tired to move, too ok to sleep. No food in the house and i choke on lemsip. That shit taste vile.
I have downloaded movies but too tired to bother. My head still hurts.