Grapes!

Excellent: Broken equipment, heart, and tissues (for allergies to things). 

Damn this angst! My life works in strange ways, by the doctrine of "Murphy's Law". Anything that can go wrong, will. Coincidentally, the only funny inside jokes occur when I'm not around. The things that I say without any laughs are hilarious in coming from anyone else. I'm nice, I try to help people out, and I respect people, yet no one wants to be near me. I get good grades, I'm a decent athlete and I play more instruments than you have fingers on your right hand, yet thats "just Cam." Cam held the door, oh, thats  "just Cam." He lent me his curve packet and AP Euro book.  "Just 'f'ing Cam." I tired of being "just Cam." Ponder, fifty fifty five five.

Egads. Just the other day I remembered that smell. That clean, yet filthy scent that penetrated me for so long. The hospital. It smelled thin, like a piece of paper thrown into a puddle after a dreary day. It smelled clean, the way that surgical tools and coffins are clean. It smelled like butterflies in your stomach, like bad memories and swallowing toothpaste. So clean it could make someone throw up, but they would have to get a mop and water to clean it up so as not to disturb the frail, sickly peace. Ponder, six hours in white, clean hell.

Never judge anyone. Don't listen to anyone. Believe what you perceive. Never care. The biggest mistake one can make is never making mistakes.

A video describing the best case scenario: