Last night I hid from death under a comforter. In a moment of pure death paranoia, I decided to go to sleep instead of dying while awake. Does death fear a sleeping 28 year old man?
I don’t fear external factors. If I get shot, I get shot. If the West Nile comes on hard and gets in my cephalitis (that’s a joke), then bring on the blood suckers.
But even at my early age, the minor aches and pains, the general malaise, and the shooting pains where they shoudn’t be are scaring the poppies out of me.
What’s worse, I refuse to go to the doctor. I have some major events coming up. Vegas, LEAF, etc. If I go to the quack and he tells me I have uromisitysis and am restricted to bed rest for three months, I won’t be able to handle it.
So, you’ll now find me hiding in bed, reading by flashlight, and hiding from certain death.
Until at least November.