I'll show you a piece of my death...

I think I'm dying. No, seriously. My whole body hurts. My head is killing me. Breathing shouldn't be an agony, eh? Fucking flu. That, and I've just talked to my father (on the phone) for the first time since we moved out. It's been beyond awkward. That was expected though. Fortunately I have no strength for hatred now. Oh and I should have gone to a ball (is that the word? I can't be bothered to look it up now) today but it's kinda hard to even leave your room with 39C fever, hm.

I can hardly keep my eyes open now but somehow I don't feel like going to bed. Oh no, wait, to my poor excuse for a bed. We left my old one at the old flat and the new one hasn't arrived yet so I'm sleeping on this couch or whatever it is. My back doesn't like it, neither do I, but what can I do, eh? Other than pray that 'the middle of January' actually does mean the middle of January and not the end of February or something.

I feel like ranting. But not like typing. That is the problem. I need someone to type for me. Or maybe rather not as no one's interested in my rambles anyways. But wow, I do feel like writing also. Like, actually writing some random shit fic.

Now, I'll either go to bed or write something. I'm not decided yet. However, I'm done here. Take care all of you=) And beware of illnesses, they're not cool at all.