Drugs.

I'm super scared of needles.
So they gave me laughing gas so that they could fill my cavities. Which I have a ton of. I brush my teeth don't worry. I just tend to snack a lot. 
I'm super sensitive to the laughing gas.  And so this is what you get.
My mother thought I was faking it.
I wasn't.
Actually I don't remember about 90% of this.

Excuse my smile.
-Druggy

EW.

I'm about to barf so I'm going to type very very fast.

You should see my fingers they are moving at about a million miles an hour.

Actually you can't even see them they are moving so fast.

So here's the situation.

I woke up around nineish. Felt sick. Ran into my bathroom and vomited.

This has happened seven times!

SEVEN TIMES!

I am repulsed by myself.

Oh. I just heard my little brother take a hard hit down the stairs. BUT I can't do anything because any fast movement could result in gross things that are unspeakable.

Right now my body feels jut like it was hit by a truck.

Seriously, typing this is hurting my forearms. Is that normal?

No. It isn't.

And I'm shaking. This is not fun.

Not only do I feel like poo. I look like it too.

My hair is in a bun on top of my head.

I have no make up on.

And let's just say my clothing is not choice.

I love it!

I wish I could dress like this everyday and not care! But I do care. But not that much. Because if I did care more than I normally do I wouldn't be wearing jeans and a sweatshirt everyday. But hey! Jeans and sweatshirts are the most comfortable way to go.

I like my body and my face.

And I am not one of those girls that need compliments to make themselves feel better. I know I am not perfect. Heck. I have three zits the size of my dad's head on my face. I sometimes feel too fat. And I have man hands. But, I have embraced all of these odd things. They make me who I am. And I would never trade that for anything.

I know this is a small post. And I apologize for that. But I don't want vomit all over my keyboard. Do you?

Wish me luck!

-Sickey.