toothpicks

Somebody pass me some toothpicks. I can't keep my eyes open on my own anymore. My head slips off my hand and comes crashing down on to the keyboard below. Bloody hell. How can I be so tired? Really. I feel as though I haven't slept in years. Hmm. Maybe there's something to that after all. Maybe that 15 years of carefree party life is finally catching up with me and taking what's rightfully theirs. Wouldn't that suck. Wouldn't that serve me right. I found a grey hair the other day. I think. Maybe it was just the contrast of my natural mousy brown conflicting with the now reddened shade my locks have faded into. Who knows. Well, if I am right and it is coming for me; fine. I'm not going down without a fight. I knew I wouldn't be able to look 19 forever. I still need those damn toothpicks. Come to think of it, I might as well grab some duck tape too. You never know when I'm going to have to pull back the skin on my forehead.