my chest feels weird, I'm cold even though I'm under a blanket with a heater on, I feel like the bed I'm laying on is rocking back and forth, and I feel like my arms are covered in wax wrap.
I don't understand what's wrong with me. Why do I feel like this?
Have you checked your temperature? You sound like you have a high fever given the description...
my chest feels weird, I'm cold even though I'm under a blanket with a heater on, I feel like the bed I'm laying on is rocking back and forth, and I feel like my arms are covered in wax wrap.
I don't understand what's wrong with me. Why do I feel like this?
Have you checked your temperature? You sound like you have a high fever given the description...
I have not.
ignatius' friend is helping me out and said the same thing. If all it is is a fever, then I'll be OK. I took a very hot shower and feel a fair bit better. Also, I am eating grapes.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
I have added 999: Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors, to my wishlist. In time I shall buy and play it. Whenever you read this, Kexruct, do know I will give you updates.
Comments
Hugs are not actually medicine, nor are they prescribed at clinics.
So either way it'll pass.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
ignatius' friend is helping me out and said the same thing. If all it is is a fever, then I'll be OK. I took a very hot shower and feel a fair bit better. Also, I am eating grapes.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
My asthma seems to be flaring up too (I'm very short of breath) which is a rarity.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
skull right out of his head, and beat him to death with it."
"Wait a second.. how do you beat someone to death with their own skull? That doesn't seem physically possible."
"That's exactly what Jimmy kept screaming."
*flashback*
"This doesn't seem physically possible!"
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
everybody seems to want to have some
was nice knowing you
many pillows
many many pillows
You'd be walking around and suddenly whooooooooaaaaaaaah
Only one scotsman ever existed, William Wallace.