there's no use talking at all.
i've spent twenty years on my wasted life. i swear to god. like here i am with phlegm trickling down my throat, waiting to be regurgitated as yellowish goop. i swear, if i get pneumonia again, i may actually die. the whole bronchial pain of having chest congestion that feels like it's dribbling into your chest and gurgling in your esophagus. fuck me, my father won't take me to the doctor, and when i think it's improving, i wake the next day and it's strengthened to near vomiting levels.
well, most of it feels like it's contained to my chest. my voice sounds strained, harsh, deepened and scratchy. my palate has been relinquished to the disgust of blandness and spit. I can't taste anything. My birthday was two days ago, I worked 8 hours the next day, roughly. My manager grunted incoherently at me when I begged him to shorten me thirty minutes. It kinda hurts that this happened now, and I don't know why.