Ruminations of an Afterlife

I dont think its samson. He just seemed worried.

i dont know what to try now. Its not you is it Peter?

I officially fail at being a dad. I've been quarantined. I'm at the hospital being BORED. Apparently the cough I have is pneumonia, though it's very early on, and now I can't be around James or Marie Lenore, and I can't even go see Peter (who's awake, by the way!) because he has no immune system.

LIKE ME.

See, we are the same person.

Dammit. Dammit. I want my babiesandPeter. Dammit.

I don't even care that I'm sick and I feel pretty miserable. Spectre can't even come see me because he'll get germies all over him and he might give them to Marie as she hasn't had any shots yet and this sucks.

Do I get Mary taken away from me too? I'll pout.

I'm sick. I got chicken pox.

How is that possible? I'm alive again. Can't explain now. Too sick. But I'm not bullshitting. I wouldn't bullshit about this. And no. It's not great. It's not a miracle. It's not a dream come true. I'm sick and something terrible had to be sacrificed for me to be here and I'm not okay with that, which is why it's probably good it wasn't my choice. I didn't choose this.

Mary's back with me to help me...be sane. I feel like hell, I feel like hell, I feel like hell. But I'm still on the internet, sue me.

It seemed like it was time to say it. I've been hiding. But I fear that seeing me shivering in a corner with a fever and pox all over me is going to give me away. Blast it all.