Dada is in dire need of a life.

I am getting old.

My life has been limited to sleeping when not eating and eating when not sleeping. My obsession with chips, sweets, and coke has skyrocketed, making me think if this is an abnormal case of PMS. Except the M doesn’t happen. Before you think that I have a bun in the oven, stop. The M doesn’t happen because of my abnormal hormones, not because of a cute parasite growing inside me.

My eye bags have never been darker, my lips more cracked, and there’s this annoying tick in my eyelids that is in sync with the second hand of my watch.

I have also developed one of the bitchiest disease ever known to man: migraine. That and the skin allergies that leave ugly, red blotches all over my arms, legs, and face.

While everybody’s traipsing their way over to the beach to celebrate midsummer, I am feeling sorry for myself in my sleep.

I am getting old. Or maybe I just need a vacation.

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