“My life started when they said it was over,” is something I wish I could say. Except no one has told me that I was dying. My time is thus far unlimited. Or so it seems.
I could do that now. Just do whatever I want. Except this second round of Covid still seems much more like a nuisance at the moment because of how irritating and dry my throat is and the headaches that come with it.
So I guess this is what being terminally ill feels like. Not being able to do anything I actually want to do because I feel like shit.
Well.. it’s not terminal. My zombie life will restart again once the white strip displays a single red line once more.
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