The temperature plunged or so I thought. I am wearing three layers again and fell asleep like a rock after I came home from work. Maybe it's just the interrupted sleep, the fractured dreams, catching up to me. Or maybe I'm feeling sick again.
When I feel sick, I feel the need to do something, the burst of frantic thoughts and hopes, because I can't do much when ridden with fever or cold. There is the sense of feeling trapped, trapped by the inability to accomplish and watching the clock tick away. That is a prison as surely as any closed space. And I am touched by the spurs of fear, but without the energy, there is not much that I can do.
That is what illness does to me.
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