10-11-12
Oh no. My daughter just sent me a text. She's coming back home with mr. seizure whinney dog. That means no peace, no quiet and that I have to cook. Dear God. Help me.................................................
My meds not working and I'm dry heaving.....................
I cannot even bear the smell of food or hear the sounds of a dog whinning or barking..........................
Dear God take me away...............................................................
My head feels like it's rested on jagged rocks.........................................................
It feels like it's full of jagged rocks and that little monster is in there laughing with glee hammering away with his little jackhammer behind my eye. That nasty little A-Hole!! Or actually there are hundreds of them hammering away at me. No mercy.
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