my little souvenirs from my brief but brutal rendezvous with the rock in rapid #5 are becoming alarmingly bigger and a tinge greener. They're in my legs and my arms screaming "battery!", "abuse!", "victim of violence!"
my severe paranoia, backed by empirical evidence of black and blues, is causing me grave panic.
fear of a deathler of nerves and stuff. maybe removals of a leg eventually.
fear!
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