10.09.00 - 19:26:32

I am about to die.

I am on the verge of death.

I am about to plunge over sheer hellish wall that separates oblivion from the rest of the world. I will miss you all. When they come, and ask how I fell so far, so fast, so hard, tell them this: I could not take it anymore.

I am exhausted. I feel like something half-alive is coiled in my stomach and wants back out. I am working on less than a three hours of sleep, and all of that restive (meaning, of course, moving, shifting, fidgeting, unrestful sleep) and I have been on hold for ten minutes listening to the SAME DAMN LOOP of REALLY AWFUL Muzak!

You would think that an Ear Nose & Throat surgeon would have something more soothing and interesting that this "Da da da-da. Dadadada dadadadada. Da da da-da. Dadadada dadadadadada," that has lulled my poor, exhausted mind into a sick little hell all its own.

Who the hell picked this out? Who says - "Yes, Jenna. I think I'm going for the puke green carpet and the snot-orange walls. It'll be shagalicious." Who SELLS this stuff? Seriously, who peddles muzak? I bet toup�es and awful suits are requisite. Oh - OH - and who the hell MAKES this singular monster of a song - who wrote it? What poor sod is stuck hacking his way through a studio life playing muzak and backup for the Kajagoogoo/Flock of Seagulls World Reunion Tour?

Why freakin' me?

Oh. Oh. Oh. Dear sweet, sweet god, a human voice.

I am saved.