I think I might be sick.

Like really sick. Like liver failure or cancer sick.

The onset of diabetes or some aneurysm or stroke waiting to happen.

I don’t like it. I don’t know if it’s true.

I just want to be cold.

I want to sleep forever.

Target: 700 words
Written: 1136 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter
Comics: Saga 17-20
Music: Our Love To Admire, Interpol