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I have decreased interest in writing and reading.
I checked out books which I wasn't really looking for in the library today, and now that I have some free time I don't feel like reading, or watching TV,
and there's not an opportunity to get online--mom is editing and publishing.
Earlier, though I was in the bathroom, staring down the drain of the sink, trying not to throw up my supper.
For some reason the idea that reading would save me from my nausea clung to my will
and seemed so persuasively true that I picked up a bottle of mom's face wash and read the label and instructions.
I found it odd, while trying to hold down a feeling of choking, that my eyes greedily accepted the words "microbead" and "formula" during the unabated physical unpleasantness.
The reading didn't help, but I kept from throwing up in the end anyway.
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