4am. can't sleep. yet, again.
sore throat. i hate it. i used to get the all the time when i was a lot younger. it's definitely one of my top three ways i hate to be sick.
i got home with the illest migraine last night--again. when i have these chronic migraines, i can't eat just anything. i was craving mac and cheese, as i do every day, but the nausea wouldn't allow that. steamed dumplings and white rice from the hood chinese store. [i don't live in the hood, so i guess it's more of the local chinese take-out restaurant?] half of the bus ride home, i was definitely debating whether or not to invest the time and money on some pork dumplings [that i've never had] when i usually eat chicken and/or shrimp dumplings when i go out for thai. those chinos love when i come in. it's very rare, but they enjoy seeing a polite, dark person. i got home and went straight to my room with my beloved carbs, stuffed my face, and passed out.
so just when i thought my day couldn't get any better, yesterday, on the way out, my father says some schizo, suicidal shit, after he asks a question about his health. what was said will not be disclosed, but best believe, it shook me the fuck up. music asked me to come back uptown. i declined. i just wanted to get home.
my joints hurt. fuck . . .