English class journal entry from 26 December 1992:

It’s 6:45 A.M. Ten minutes ago I threw up on my bedroom floor. I woke up and felt my stomach compressing and expanding and my esophagus swelling. I jumped out of bed to find the bathroom, but I didn’t quite make it.

There is now a stain, a pool, a puddle of drying barf in my carpet. Lord, did it taste horrible. It smells like bad ham. Probably what was left of Christmas dinner. My journal was right here and it was already open so I just decided to write this. But I am going back to sleep so I can wake up in a few hours. I’ll probably barf again but I don’t mind because it makes me feel better.

English class journal entry from 28 December 1992:

I barfed three more times on Saturday. The second two times were watery and tasteless but the fourth time tasted like saltines. It happened right after I finished taking a shower. I felt weak, stumbled out of the shower, and put my face in the toilet. It was pretty cool, because I was lying on the floor, naked, cold, and wet, waiting for reverse peristalsis to occur. And when it did, damn! I must have been puking for twenty minutes. And all I had eaten was crackers.

Yesterday I spent as an invalid, but I’m all better now. *urp* Uh… excuse me. I think I’m going to baaaAAAAOOORCH!!! plop plop