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Stress, my final frontier.
I phone my doctors
and plead for an appointment.
Six days time will have to do
but he has to be told,
has to be told that I am not right.
Because I know...
That time seems to skip
past my normal routine quicker.
That my brain seems to
cut off vital functions and
disconnect valuable knowledge.
That my arse seems to
change its routine and
actually
go on strike.
That I seem to sweat more
and sleep less.
That I don"t seem to
care much for family or friends.
Oh my God!
I think i"m in love!
