Thusfar in my life, I only get really sick once a year. Usually, it's something throat related. This time, it's this terrible, unexplainable stomach virus that I contracted late Saturday and haven't yet been able to kick.
I've been out of work the past two days. Do you know what it's like to be stuck at home with broken cable? (Thanks, Time Warner.) I hope not. I'll paint the sad, sad picture: me, rolling around in bed, watching the first season of The OC, with far too much time on my hands to overanalyze every aspect of my life.
I don't know what has caused me to become so dillusional. I haven't been able to sleep as much as I'd like to (which is all the time) and I have little to no appetite. Perhaps it's the lack of slumber or sustenance that has led me to completely psyching myself out.
Worst of all, it's allowing thoughts to enter my brain that shouldn't and words to escape from my mouth that most certainly shouldn't. What the hell is wrong with me? Being sick has made me irritable. And mean. I hate it.
I read an article not too long ago about a woman who had cut back her dietary intake for one reason or another. I remember one of her thoughts was, "Is this what it feels like to be thin?" And while I'm sure I've lost a few pounds in the past few days, I certainly don't look skinny. But, I can't help echoing her sentiments. Is this what it feels like? Gut wrenching and constantly on the cusp of keeling over? My dad dropped off a 24 pack of Poland Springs and a large bag of Gatorade and food outside my door this morning. I kicked the water to the fridge, bent down to open it, and immediately had to get back into bed. That small act made me feel as though I may pass out.
So, my deepest apologies to anyone and everyone I've taken it out on. It's not you - it's me. Something is wrong, and it's more than a stomach virus.
I'm just not myself today.