Woke from a dream that I had cancer, having read yesterday in the paper that we now have stronger proof linking cancer and excessive weight. It seems inevitable that I'll be Cancer Girl someday. I'm a mole-spotted meat puppet and I'm going to die badly.
Cannot seem to stop drinking. V.v. bad. Alcohol consumption: 1 kajillion ounces. That's what it feels like. Why don't I just bathe in it?
Dragging myself into work today is like trying to drag my own sodden corpse out of the river, down the hill, into a freshly dug grave.
But hey. estepheia has written some more S/X. I am going to go jab that into my veins now.