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Thursday, November 20, 2003

An illness seems nothing short of terminal...

My eyes once calm, now become alive, glowing with a new terror. Like a mother looking on as her child is stolen in the night my eyes tell a story of a new pure agony. A sound once comforting like snow falling on a windshield, the shards of broken glass rush from the bottle, dance playfully on my tounge, falling safely in my throat ripping and tearing in their descent. My eyes speak true as terror overtakes my mind. Pain is my only companion now in my blood gurggling display as the sweet crimson liquid spills down my jaw caressing my attire like a wool scarf to an old windsor coat. The pain is almost unbarable now, but a man doesn't show his pain as a hidden tear escapes my eye, running for freedom down my cheek.
Alas, I am still ill. My only real friends now only make my company in the lonely Halls of medicine. My throat feels like its tearing itself apart, but at least the Dr. said ,'it should just go away in a few days'. Thanks Doc, i'm glad I'm making your med school payments hoping that you don't have to waste your time diagnosing my illness. I officially denounce the medical world.
I promise to write more often(brooke).

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