I’m sitting next to a auto repair place thinking about death. The iPhone is very slow. It corrects only 20% of my words correctly because I’m not quite used to it. They upped my dose, which I would like to talk about, but know that I really shouldn’t. I still haven’t learned anything.

Jay’s car is working. I’ve been helping him with it today. We’ve been talking. I’ve talked about dreams, medication stuff (was that a bad idea?), and “work related things” (we both work at the cigar shop).

I was sitting here staring into space while I was waiting for him, thinking – I’ve got to do something. I don’t really know how much longer I have to live. No one really knows how much longer they have.

But then again, I’m a morbid soul. I actually got scared though, this time. Usually I feel like I’m being dramatic. I buy into the label. The Denise label, the woman label. This time, I actually freaked myself out.


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