It is afternoon

[Nightmare]

My throat is dry. Every swallow is painful and every breath, amplifying the pain. I feel terrible fatigue all over my body. My mind is not working as it should be. Hours have passed since my usual bedtime and yet, I am awake. My eyes are starting to feel warm and they are half-closed, but I am not sleeping for no reason at all. The air is warm. I see the sun shine outside through the green curtains in my room. The sunlight, florescent lamps and the computer monitor all shine into my eyes, making me feel more and more fatigued. Dr. Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik would say at this moment: CUT THE MONITORS! And if he did, I would've cut it off. There is a good supply of malt drinks in the refrigerator. Perhaps I should help myself to one with a twist of lemon, because I can't stand the bitter taste. I hear malt drinks are very good for you, and drinking a lot of fluids should help me recover faster. I had to go take an exam. I ran through the parking lot because I forgot my entry card. The other day, I ran a long distance uphill. One day running uphill while fasting, and the other day running at all, while ill. It is 1:36 PM. The time is short for me...I should go to sleep soon. I need to wake up in time for there are matters that I need to take care of. I am writing this out of pure boredom. I almost want to kill people, but I always almost want to do that. I've never tried it, but it sounds like fun. Although it usually sounds really terrible. Like right now. It is 1:39 PM. I have no idea what else to write, except that now, it's 1:40 PM. I should really be asleep now, but I am not. Cold things agitate me. It's always like this when I'm ill. I have been struggling with Windows Live Messenger ever since I got on an hour or so ago, and it still is not letting me sign in. I have no idea what manner of devilry this is. I should stop writing this text wall soon because I'm pretty sure no one will read it all, despite my very charming writing style. I'm thinking of wrestling. I'm listening to Hulk Hogan's Theme (not Real American, the other one from 1985) and it's giving me spirit. I feel strangely calm, yet my fighting spirit is burning like fire. I will rid my body of this asinine illness that dared intrude it on these holy days and keep it immaculate of all germs forevermore, all with sheer force of will. Incidentally, Firefox's British English dictionary does not recognize "forevermore" as a word. What dilly dally. With each swallow, the pain wells up, but each stroke of pain reminds me of my ultimate goal of conquering myself. I will now get myself a malt beverage and drink it with extreme prejudice. The pain is ever growing, but so is my spirit. I will fight. I will survive. I will conquer. There is nothing I cannot do, and by the next time I am awake, you will still see me ruling over you with an iron fist and fear my fearsome pink name that will show up in whatever topic it is you are reading, like I can never be rid of, like I am always on you. Like I am stalking you...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALWAYS

TL;DR: I'm sick.

[lolDeath]

That's fucking weird. The first post I see when I remember this forum exists is that.

Fuck you, man.

[Kriemhild]

I should stop writing this text wall soon because I'm pretty sure no one will read it all, despite my very charming writing style.

I did.

[Nightmare]

I did.

Damn. I think the government made the plague on purpose.

[Original Alear]

TL;DR: I'm sick.

Sick like diseased or sick like you like scat porn?

Maybe I should have read the actual post huh?

[Erk]

cool