I just woke up. With a headache from Diet Coke withdrawl.
And it's your fault.
Because, see, if I didn't find you so terrifying, I could just pick you up and call Dr. Katie and say, "Hey, Dr. Katie, Walgreen's is having trouble with your fax number. Could you fax them my Ambien prescription?" And she'd probably say yes. She's nice like that.
But instead, I just wait for Walgreen's to figure it out. And in the meantime, stare at my ceiling until 4AM. Then wake up with that *&^%$ headache.
If you didn't make my armpits sweat
or make me feel all yucky in my stomach
and if picking you up didn't make me want to throw you somewhere (far, far, away)
things would be different.