* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It's dark, it's soft with some pokey out bits some of which are sharp and hurt; it's like anyone else's head really.


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Sunday, February 27

Also...

I'd like someone to read to me. Some comforting children's book would be best. Nothing funny, laughing hurts, something sweet but not so sweet that it might make me cry. A story like a warm, not too tight embrace with a cool hand on my forehead, that's what I want.

The taste of St. Joseph's Baby Asprin fading on my tongue as the feeling of sleep washes over me and carries me into the darkness of unknowing.

Hmmm. Pretty.

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