Cold.

And mighty nauseous monster is back. Vomit me my guts and sing me a song. Give me a lullaby to last me this night. I never read things the way people read, never understand them the way they do. It gets me into trouble but I swear I don't do it intentionally. If they would only be more specific. Her laughter, I despise it. Especially when my head is this unsettled with my stomach. A zombie boyfriend, he'd eat my brains if I asked him to, wouldn't he? I replied instead with an "alright" and not "ok". Because everything's gonna be "alright". The time of the month, have you brought me gifts?