i lost my art skills.

[on_my_period]

so here i sit on this boat with no sails, wind, or paddles in a sea of lost job applications. i'm growing sick out here... and even all the forms of tea in the world can't ease this body; for my ears and my throat feel something like nickelodeon slime. too bad i can't market my own bodily fluids to small, gullible children.



i can't breathe these days.