Fun fact// when I was in 4th grade my best friend and I memorized the Russian alphabet and wrote to each other in that so nobody else could fuck with us. Silly times. Cute times. I'm not that cool anymore
We're going round in circles. Tell me, will this déjà vu never end? ~ Spice Girls
So here's a story from A to Z. You wanna get with me? You gotta listen carefully. I got M in the place who likes it in ya face. I got R like MRI. Say oh why why why? And as for me, ah you'll see... Yep we're still trapped in the N-n-nineties here and it's 24 hours til slam your body down and zigazig-ah!
Last time I checked there are 3 possible outcomes to this Saturday MRI situashun. 1. Stones are moving up and down in bile duct = surgery required, cry. 2. Stones are stuck in bottom of bile duct = surgery required, cry. 3. Stones have passed through cut made in the bile duct during botched op and are nowhere to be seen = breathe deeply and laugh head off/cry.
Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want: I want a conclusion. A poetic one. I don't want every girl's worst nightmare. I've had my fill of spice in my life and I just don't need anymore original content. I only need an ending. When I think about the possibility of more surgery I've actually only got two words and they are 'I' and 'Can't'. Bad, isn't it, to feel like this, especially on a Friday? But to my 7 week smashed relief/credit I have been able to distract myself every single day. In fact I don't know any other way of existing these days. So, once again I say to y'all, c'est du déjà vu: say a prayer for me, hasta mañana, viva forever.