
I have a f***ed up immune system. Yeah, the snot’s so high up my face, I can’t be bothered with writing a classier opening sentence. I’ve come again for my, what has been for a while, monthly self-pity party. A smashing rant for a starter, whining for the main course, and I can’t be bothered with dessert because, you know what, happy things are lies. Cupcakes are con-artists. Continue reading “Of Allergies”