For 15 days my skin has been itchy, like, not a minor itch, more like that feeling you get after laying in the grass on a warm spring day.

Fucking relentless.

Last night I was woken by the need to itch.

And the night before that.

And the night before that.

Every time I endure some sort of new malfunction or pain, I think, this is it, this is the end of it all, no way it can get worse. 

But it always does, there's always something additional to endure.

And the most difficult part is the expectation to care about the same shit as everyone else, to find value in the valueless, to exist in a shared reality.

Because if you don't enjoy television or the local sports team or politics, people think of you as a complete antisocial asshole.

Not a team player.

But, hey guys, I like ice cream too.

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