The painkillers aren't working.

I took two extra strong painkillers last night (21 May) then went to bed. But I kept thinking about stuff.

I thought of worst case scenarios.

What if I was allergic to the drug? And just died in my sleep.

I figured I'll most probably be a soul/spirit that would be peaceful. I'm rather content with what I have now.

Sure, I've got loads of things I want to learn and do, places I want to see. But if I were alive, I probably wouldn't even be able to do half of those things. I'm a big member of the Procrastinator's Club.

I'd be pushing it all off before I decide that I really, really want to do it.

But the only thing that I probably wouldn't be able to let go is that, I have never held a baby in my arms before. Well, my nephew, specifically. (Now that's just scary. I'm so sorry, Ryan. Didn't meant to freak you out.)

Alright, the painkillers aren't working. I still feel pain and it's making me delusional.

I actually felt a burn in my stomach and wrote all this down.

But I wrote a draft for Film before writing this weird piece.