typing Skillz and My weekend

So I've been sick all weekend and I just discovered that the backspace key on tis (this) keyboard is literally broken.

Woah.

This should be interesteing.

I saw a doctor this morning. She told me it awas probably just a cold (that lasted waaay longer than I feel it hsould have) but I should take a special decongestant anyway.
She also prescribed an inhaler.
Kinda random.

What was the point of telling you taht? I'll be honest, I don't really remember, but I can't get rid of it, nor my plethora of typos, because of my little backspace-key problem.

I'm actually somewhat disappointed that it wasn't something like pneumonia (I typed that really slow because I wanted it to be right!) because pneumonia would have given me an excuse to stay home and SLEEP.

Yes, I'm that tired.

So here are my options: push through one more year of school so I can get Spanish learned and out of the way and then drop dead
OR
proclaim this as my last semester for a while adn take a break. (I miss the backspace-key sooo much right now)

I could take a break and come back. People do that.

Or I'll have kids, move out of the state, live in a house and be forty years old before I come back again.

...but would that be so bad?

It's all so hypothetical anyway.

When next we meet, I willhave fixed this silly backspace-key. Or I'll be typing from another computer. *shrug* Either way...

A time to Be Still

It's 2 a.m. I can't sleep. Probably because I slept for most of the day.

Not normal, I know.

I hope I'm just getting sick with a cold or something. There are other, more ominous things that could be happening to my body, so I choose to delude myself into believing that it's just an oncoming cold. Something benign and transient, something I could survive.

Ah, sweet denial, my erstwhile f(r)iend. It's been too long since last we met.

I like the silent stillness of this hour. Nearly polar opposite of my life 12 hours ago - the midday counterpart to this nighttime solace.
I like the steady ticking of my roman numeral clock. I like the patter of rain on my window. I like how the artificial light from the streets reflects back down to earth off the thick cloud cover, giving the world a melancholy illumination.

I think I would enjoy being nocturnal.

I want to harvest as many of these still hours as I can. There's a potential here to get the things done that I wasn't able to even approach during the day. As soon as the sun comes up the world will begin moving faster, and I'll get left behind again.

My soul is ragged and raw, but there's no need to try to conceal it from anyone. I'm the only one here. I can be. A small revelation, perhaps, but it has freed me from considerable anxiety.

I didn't realize I was carrying so much anxiety. Such a weight.

It's good to (finally) be alone.