ARRRRRR
I.
Am.
So.
Sick.
Of.
Being.
Sick.
It's only been two days, but I'm ready to stab myself in the face.
I hate it. Hate it . HATE IT. And Sycamore came along and emptied my bag of grotty tissues all over the place. They were quarantined Sycamore. QUARANTINED.
I want Matt to come home.