On Sweating Profusely

There’s nothing I despise more than my sweat glands acting overtime. It’s something that’s sure to drag me out of my imaginary world and bring me back to reality. In my imagination, there’s no place for something as drab as sweat. Summers suck. How I wish to be sent to Siberia and be banished from wherever it is that I am at the moment. Snow through the year and a winter that chills my bone will be nothing short of bliss, and Heaven right here on bloody Earth!


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