Open Letter

Dear Asshole Fever,

When you first appeared I was all "cool, I'll take some aspirin, get some pity, sneak a nap and get on with my life." But you had other plans. You laugh at Advil, chortle at Tylenol and give the big finger to Aleve.

I'm so over you. My skin hurts. The bottom of my feet even hurt. I can't get warm. Oh wait, scratch that, now the fires of hell have come up to lick at my face. Motherfuck.

Get out.

Your Host,
Kirsten