With the exception of the shouting

I never actually bleed when I’m sick.

When there is pain, there is no blood.

When I’m sick, the bleeding stops.

An ear closes and the blood stops.

It will return when I feel better.

The bleeding.

See, the insistent periphery of my enduring malaise only rises to the occassion when other issues are at a minimum.

To remind me that no matter what, I’ll never be well.

Normal is out of my reach, and therefore, so is peace.

My cross to bear, for whatever reason.

Who, besides a fool, trusts the universe?

Drinks for my friends.

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