Random Observation/Comment #188: It’s been a while since I’ve lived this zombie life. I’ve almost forgotten how terrible it was until I had fallen ill the past couple of days. Only a day and a half has passed without doing anything productive, and yet, I feel like I’ve lost a large chunk of my youth. Every wasted moment not doing anything suddenly slaps me across the face. I find this feeling strange because I didn’t used to see things this way. In the past, I’ve said, “time enjoyed wasted is not wasted time.” Although I had fun watching a few episodes and sleeping most of the day away trying to somehow stay warm and cool at the same time (I had one of those shitty fever/chills), I guess it wasn’t enough for my mind – nay, my soul – to be satisfied. I still felt I had been infected, even though I was really bed-ridden and sick.
I think I’m being too harsh on my own rules regarding productivity. If not for the fact that I’m supposed to be enjoying my freedom through the beautiful weekend trips in the different beautiful cities in Europe, I should be at least sympathetic to my degraded mental and physical state. I tried typing, but every two minutes, my head would lean back and my eyes would roll back even further. If I didn’t have eyelids, I would have probably been staring at the floor behind my chair. The only thing I managed to do was double-click the next episode of HIMYM. The funny lines (from this fantastically awesome series) made my throat hurt and my stomach turn. Sometimes I couldn’t decide whether or not it was a poorly written joke that made me throw up or the fact that I was unable to throw out the overly-used bag two times ago (don’t even ask how many times it takes for a bag to be “overly-used”).
My organs felt like they were bleeding, and somehow it made me wonder what the body looked like between organs and muscles. Because of those water percentage facts, I imagined all those empty spaces from that old health class 2D cross-section was filled with water just sloshing around freely. It was, at this time, that I realized that I was going crazy. My pillow had become my best friend and my blanket – my closest lover.
I felt so weak, yet all I wanted to do was write or read, or learn, or do something – anything would have been fine. I was not only powerless, but useless. The sickness did not bring me unhappiness – everyone gets sick once in a while. Instead, it was my reaction to the sickness that made me miserable. I had become a zombie when there was nothing I could do about it. Now, I definitely have no excuse to procrastinate when I get better… maybe I’ll just realize this last remark a little later.
~See Lemons Feel Less Crappy