ARG!

My head is stuffed.

Feels like cotton, or maybe rocks.

And it hurts to breathe,

like my cat sat on my chest and won't move.

I hate feeling like this.

It sucks. I hate it.

Could be worse, could have to stay home in bed.

Wait, that'd be better!

I would not be losing things.

Pens, pencils, papers, my mind!

I want to go home.

Crawl in bed.

Be dead to the world for at least another 4 hours.

And then try again in the morning.

Maybe.