Color me dramatic.
All I got was a weird haze, aches, sweating and a little shaking.
Last night is a haze, except for the sweet taste of them on my lips and the stomach ache and then the sweating and shaking. Probably not a good idea. And today my chest has been killing me and smoking an entire pack of cigarettes did nothing to help.
I love menthols. And fuck Shell for being out of Turkist Jade. What the hell?
Last night was a mess.
A fucking mess.
I kind of wish I would have died.
After I took them all, I couldn't move. I laid in my bed and my entire body just fucking ached. I remember laying there and aching but not doing anything. Just laying there in the dark.
I had this splendid dream that I died. And I did't have a funeral, they just burned me and threw the ashes in the garbage. No one cried, but not in a shitty "I'm glad she's dead way." They didn't cry because they knew I'd be back.
Whatever that means.
So, sadly, I woke up today. My sheets were soaked with sweat. My hair was like wild snakes and I just groaned.
I spent the majority of the afternoon screening my phone calls, crying, looking out the window and listening to Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash. Then crying some more. And drinking a lot of water. Then throwing up. Then watching The Heathers. Then pouring hot wax all over my legs.
I'm so dramatic.
The whole sitting in a chair, staring outside into this beautiful fucking day while I cry my eyes out and listen to Patsy Cline made me feel like a patient in an old folks home.
The room spun and I tried to sleep the day away.
Eventually I feel somewhat better.
I think I remember trying to write a suicide letter, but I was too out of it. I can't find it though. Maybe I just imagined it. I also remember trying to smoke up it was too exhausting. I put back on my pajamas because I didn't want anyone to find me passed out and naked.
I don't know what happened.