It's been beautiful out. I haven't left the house in five days. My laundry hamper only contains pyjamas. I wash my hair but can't be bothered to comb it. The sun looks good, wish it felt good. I'm scared to go out and my tummy hurts. I wish I was a "shiny happy people smiling." Im terrfied of going out and having somebody look, really look, at me. The high school girls go by my window laughing and I hide behind the curtains envious of them. The mailman seems so carefree too. My dog must be so sick of me. Lucky pooch, for his skin matters not to him, or any other. I'm so sick of me. So sick.

---Sigh (thinking of a clever name takes too much fucking effort)