...so the world shrinks drop by drop,
as the wine goes to your head...
It's like that, when I'm sick. The world shrinks to the exact size of my apartment. I can't conceive of a space outside of the apartment, away from the couch. It's as though the people in my life - all of those people not connected to me by those holy lines of blood - don't exist. I try to imagine them, and I fail - their images expressed as stylized versions of their names in my mind. Even the Captain seems far away.
It's a strange feeling. When I get sick, I lose more than my appetite, more than sleep, more than days of wellness - I lose my taste for other things. For books. For music. For video games. For much of anything. Today's the first day I've really *listened* to music. And I have to do that to focus, to exclude the sounds of my coworkers, to override the regular hoopla that passes my window every hour during the school day.
I've had two major nosebleeds today. My comfort? I like the sight of my own bright blood on white porcelain. Isn't that awfully emo and goth? *laugh* Maybe it is. It's pretty, what can I say? I'm no cutter, not into self-mutilation. Definitely not into pain. It's just...picturesque.
I'm so tired...I hate being sick. I was sick for three months - December (bronchitis), January (the flu), and February (sinus infection from hell). I was WELL in March, and I anticipated being well until the fall. I did not anticipate being sick in April. :( It's 'cause the co-worker who sits behind me got sick, and I got it from her. I have a hard time resisting colds and other respiratory infections. *sigh* I have the world's worst immune system, seriously. I always have. The Captain insists that it's been worse since the time we suspect that I developed fibromyalgia. Which makes sense - fibro is an auto-immune disorder. It only follows, to my mind, that my immune system would fail in other ways. If it's dumb enough to attack me, of course it would be dumb when it came to actually *doing* its *job*, you know?
Anyway. No point going on and on about it. I'm sick, bottom line. I'm tired, bottom line. I want to go home, but I can't, since I came in late, and I'm trying to make up time. ...time... This morning, the fine blue sky and the undeniable green leaves twisted their tongues in my ear - and I heard them, felt the warm, clear honey, but I couldn't do anything about them...work waited. Work, work that I've had to avoid for my own good. Work that I wish I could continue avoiding. Heh. *shakes head* There's work waiting at home. No doubt, the good Captain dropped his end of the bargain again. Fact of life. Like me being sick all the time. Fact of life.
I am not some delicate magnolia, I swear. It's just the world conspiring to make me as such. It's not in my will to be such. It's in my will to be lithe and healthy and golden. To be fierce and night and nocturnal and hungry and burning, not with fever, but with that little Promethean light. That little spark of cosmic sentience.
...you cast a shadow 'round my room...
I feel...crazed. Fevered. I probably am fevered...it's a shame, really, to be this bright, and it's a malfunction. Bright eyes means madness, rather than mania. I used to worship the former; I am in service to the latter. I'd give a great deal to be master of both.
...you put a chill across my face...like the air of December...I swear I remember it that way...
There's work I'm putting off, because I don't want to do it. I'm sleepy and sluggish, fevered and unfocused. I want to put my head down and sleep...drift...there's a khaki-painted room somewhere, with a faded caramel couches, hot cups of lemon & honey with herbs, hot cups of broth with herbs, the soft hands of the Captain, the soft voice of the Seidman Robin (the shaman I know)....I am little more than a memory, or the fever that snags my eyes, carries them away. I'll be writing in my delirium later, no doubt, and proud of the incoherence that sings out of my blood, an incoherence I often equate - mistake - make for wisdom.
When I wake up again, I'll be imagining yellow fields and green swamps and blue skies.
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