Okay, You

Listen up, imaginary baby. I through fooling around. Okay?

You know what I've done? I've gone back on meds for my weird brain thing that might stand in your way. Done. Dealt with. I have been imaged in a way that required my whole insides to be washed out with iodine, which stings. Done. Dealt with. I have just completed a cycle of meds that in addition to making me feel like I'm wrapped in a thick layer of cotton wool, are also meant to kick my body into gear and increase the odds of you. Tomorrow morning I will go, coffee in hand, to be probed in a way I would have found horrifying a mere five years ago, but which now seems routine. They will tell me how the meds are working. Then, a few days later, I will Have a Procedure.

I'm holding up my end, kid. What's your excuse?

Get out here and start pulling your weight. GET A JOB, IMAGINARY BABY.

I've had just about enough of this foolishness from you.