Salutations

So uh, Hi. What? oh nothing. I just think I might be dying a little bit, or a whole lot, but whatever. There are messages in all the wrong webs. From flaming sinuses and burning dry eyes, kick in the hypochondria (paranoia), 'gunpowder, treason, and plot.' It just has to be this one point in time. And where the fuck am I? 'Wretched, taciturn, eight-legged beasties', -- eight legged incubi shuffling under cell shallows. "Hey honey, you've lost weight." More like I've lost appetite. Increasingly out of character, and mental capacity. But October's done already? Just wake me up the second week inJune, if I last that long. I'm drifting off first week of December. 'Sleeping Beauty', standardized tests be damned. :edit:

It's quite amazing how every Friday little pieces of me pop up in three panels. 131 days.