My stomach hurts. My hair is frizzy. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. I'm not in any mood to do work. My brain is farting like a mexican who ordered too much beans on his burrito. My eyes are closing down. My nose is shutting off. My fingers are dragging their ways across the keyboard. The fire is a real bitch. My sister is way too obsessed about her weight. And I wish I could fly...an airplane.
Bonjour, J'mapplle Michelle. J'aime voulait danse.
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