Thursday, June 22, 2017

June 22, 2017

Dear Diary,

Well, here it is, the longest day of the year. Quite different from the day I started this diary six months ago, which was the shortest, darkest day of the year. I feel I've come a long way since then, and Dr. Morell agrees, sort of. For example, I no longer require the Demerol/Valium injections to sleep 18 hours. My depressions still gets me plenty of sack time, just without all the pills and needles. We save that stuff for the seizures and coughing.

Basking in the sunlight of this long summer day, I can look at my long journey back to reflect on everything that's happened since the you-know-what. True, I may not be queen yet have won the battles, but there are still many more people to be murdered battles to be won. And while none of these clowns can win an election the party is in deep trouble, I'm sure they're just setting the stage for a time when I can cough up a phlegm blob the size of Texas ride to the rescue.

The big difference between now and then is my optimistic attitude. Back then, I saw my coughing as a sign of weakness. However, with enough psychotropic and anti-depressant meds time, I've learned to see the positive aspects of regurgitating chunks of mucus not being perfect. It proves that even a delusional sociopath crusading woman has a more vulnerable side, which Bill says makes me appear less like the Dragon Lady of D.C. more human. He may be on to something. And if it turns out to be throat or lung cancer, even better: That opens up the whole martyr thing, where by 2020, I'd be nothing but a sack of fertilizer.

Boy, would they be sorry.

Yeah, that would show 'em. A whole different campaign from that abortion they stuck me with the valiant effort in 2016. It would be "Win this for Hillary."  Or "She's dead, but you're not." Or "Don't fuck it up this time." I'm no copywriter, but that would be the idea.

I even drew up some sketches of little promotional bottles of cough syrup with my picture on the label. Bill knows some people in China who can deliver little one ounce bottles for a nickel a piece. At a hundred bucks each, that's some heavy coin fundraising.

The future is calling me and I'm not just sitting on my bedpan. Now all I have to do is brainstorm a way to leverage the seizures and I think we'd be back in business.

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