Probably a sign, right?
This morning I set one of my cookbooks on fire as I was making my morning tea.

It wasn't a big fire, just the corner of it. But it was enough, of course, to fill the entire apartment with smoke very quickly.

I'm exhausted, which is how the whole incident began to begin with. I was hobbling around the apartment last night like my grandmother. This morning I can feel every muscle in my thighs and lower back.

People don't realize when they "comfort" me with the idea that despite all my physical issues, I'll live a normal life span that that is precisely what I'm terrified of. AT 32, I am daunted by three flights of stairs. Can't wait to see what the next decade brings. I can only hope it's electroshock therapy or a lobotomy.

Not necessarily in that order.

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