Friday, June 23, 2017

June 23, 2017

Dear Diary,

Can't figure out why I have these little bumps on my thighs. Most of them are small and reddish, but there are a few that are really growing with snowcaps on them. Dr. Morell says I shouldn't squeeze them, but the truth is that I can't resist the urge and there's nothing else to do, so I spent the afternoon popping a few just to see how far I could get the yellow stuff to fly. Learned quickly that you don't do that looking directly over them, or the pus shoots right into your eyes.

Man, that stings.

Not sure if it's a rash, but since there's not much to do, I decided to give them all names of the people they remind me of. Chuck Schumer is the one that never heals completely. It just oozes and oozes. I call the most swollen one Nancy Pelosi. I was going to name it Gloria, because it's also the reddest one, but this one always looks ready to pop, so I thought Nancy was more appropriate. I named the oldest one Bernie Sanders, because it's been around forever and won't go away. It just keeps infecting all the other ones.

Dr. Morell won't let me have any pets since the neighbors found all of their cats strangled in the alley last month, so I like to think of these pustules as my little friends. It's like a family that visits me without having to be nagged over the phone. And I can talk to them and they don't talk back or blame me for anything at all.

Bessie gives me strange looks when I talk to them, but I think that she's jealous of me, like everyone else. I get along just fine with everyone. I'm happy. I'm not crazy.

Where's my Clozapine? Are we out? Why are the walls melting again?

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