Tuesday, August 03, 2004
I don't feel well.
Understatement of the week. I feel like someone just used me as a punching bag and then stuffed me headfirst into a tub of molten lead...
I wonder where I come up with all these weird ideas?
I wonder if my presence is missed at school. I mean, other than the regular crew that I hang out with. I'm sure one or two of them might feel the loss of my presence, but I gather that it probably won't be more than 3 or 4.
Yeah I'm a pessimist. I rather think the worst of every situation, and so far, the people around me haven't let me down in my predictions. Maybe I should give up my day job and become a psychatrist. All I have to do is sit back, look serious, and deliver grave news in my "the world is going to end" face. Haha.
My system is screwed up. Sniffles, coughs, something akin to a rusty nail stuck in my throat, mucus with bloodstains mixed in it coming out of my nose, cold feet and hands, fever, stomach cramps....
That's right kids, don't overdose on Panadol. If it doesn't wind up killing you, you get symptoms like these. What a wonderful life I lead.
My throat is killing me. I can barely speak above a whisper, and then it still hurts. My voice comes out garbled. And it's like having a permanent fishbone wedged in your throat. Eugh...
Oh and then there is the mucus that is so thick I'm sure it could have gotten up and slithered off somewhere on its own. It looks awfully disgusting. Of course nothing beats seeing thick greenish mucus mixed in with something that looks suspiciously like blood. I swear I felt dizzy the first time i saw snot with blood in it. Especially since it came out of ME.
Headache. Too much sleeping and lying around. But I can't do much other than that. My dad graciously allowed me use of the computer after he saw that I could walk ten steps without wobbling. Oh welps.
Seeing BoA on my computer helped me to forget a little that I was in pain. God, she's so beautiful. Even just thinking and talking about her now, my pain is being pushed to the background. But the pain is still there...
I feel ill. Really ill. I could barely choke down dinner earlier. At least though I'm not puking up whatever I ate like yesterday. Yesterday was bad. Today is just the throat and intermittent sniffles that have greenish mixed with blood snot. I have yet to decide which is worse.
Oh and the fever. Yes the fever. I feel like I'm burning up, heat waves pouring off me. Then eventually, in between moments of lucidity, I felt the heat slowly burn off. And the headache is coming back...
Yes right now...even as I type. I can feel the menacing ache running around the back of my head, ready to do war on my already damaged grey matter. It surprises me that I can still be able to write like a pro, well, as pro as I ever was. If I'm pro at all in the first place...I think I'm deluding myself.
Ah yes...that old, familiar feeling. That feeling of equlibrium upset and torn apart. I feel like if I stand up now, I will fall over. My chest...it hurts. And my left arm aches, little electrical sparks running up and down that limb. My throat feels drier than the Sahara Desert.
...with my kind of luck, we can expect a sudden rainstorm to descend on those burning sands. Life loves to prove me wrong.
I feel so far away. Saliva dribbles unconsciously onto my t-shirt, and I wipe it off with one hand. I feel...giddy. Warm. Pain. It hurts? Yes yes...it hurts...
Brooding clouds speed on hidden wings
Bear the pain and sorrow swift on the winds
Thunder whips and cracks on shattered dreams
Life sways and turns on a single whim
Howling gales scream and weep
Choice of the child falls into the deep
Crimson sheets fall from Mother Sky
Single query remains "Why?"
Nice. Poem. I told you I write better in pain. And when better to write when I'm in real physical pain? Emotional pain is one thing, physical is another. The scars of the body will fade in time, the scars on the mind will linger forever.
Cracks in the walls... Don't you see? Haven't you seen me at the wall outside the laboratory, stroking the wide crack there? Once broken, it cannot be undone, only hidden...
Single shriek glides on silent wind
Sorrow echoes, fade and dim
Darkness covered with sheets of white
Hark, the baying of wolves in the night!
Son of shadow cloaked in robes of light
Evil hidden is not evil wiped
Scars seared on blighted flesh
Blood seeps through wire mesh
Death rides on swiftest steeds
Bringing news of a fallen weed
Sands of time flow and shift
But scars of time fail to fade and ease...
Another one. I'm on a roll. And they rhyme. They actually rhyme. Do people read these stuff? Perhaps...my teachers should read my poems and grade them. I've always had a dream, a dream where I sit down for a major examination for Literature, and then open the paper to see the unseen poem. Only to find that I was the one who wrote it. What a pipe dream huh?
Anyway, it's getting late. I'm tired. Awfully tired. My throat throbs with tiresome frequency. My heart palpitates indignantly, protesting its existence in this hollow shell.
I bid thee farewell and good night.
Godspeed.
]
Understatement of the week. I feel like someone just used me as a punching bag and then stuffed me headfirst into a tub of molten lead...
I wonder where I come up with all these weird ideas?
I wonder if my presence is missed at school. I mean, other than the regular crew that I hang out with. I'm sure one or two of them might feel the loss of my presence, but I gather that it probably won't be more than 3 or 4.
Yeah I'm a pessimist. I rather think the worst of every situation, and so far, the people around me haven't let me down in my predictions. Maybe I should give up my day job and become a psychatrist. All I have to do is sit back, look serious, and deliver grave news in my "the world is going to end" face. Haha.
My system is screwed up. Sniffles, coughs, something akin to a rusty nail stuck in my throat, mucus with bloodstains mixed in it coming out of my nose, cold feet and hands, fever, stomach cramps....
That's right kids, don't overdose on Panadol. If it doesn't wind up killing you, you get symptoms like these. What a wonderful life I lead.
My throat is killing me. I can barely speak above a whisper, and then it still hurts. My voice comes out garbled. And it's like having a permanent fishbone wedged in your throat. Eugh...
Oh and then there is the mucus that is so thick I'm sure it could have gotten up and slithered off somewhere on its own. It looks awfully disgusting. Of course nothing beats seeing thick greenish mucus mixed in with something that looks suspiciously like blood. I swear I felt dizzy the first time i saw snot with blood in it. Especially since it came out of ME.
Headache. Too much sleeping and lying around. But I can't do much other than that. My dad graciously allowed me use of the computer after he saw that I could walk ten steps without wobbling. Oh welps.
Seeing BoA on my computer helped me to forget a little that I was in pain. God, she's so beautiful. Even just thinking and talking about her now, my pain is being pushed to the background. But the pain is still there...
I feel ill. Really ill. I could barely choke down dinner earlier. At least though I'm not puking up whatever I ate like yesterday. Yesterday was bad. Today is just the throat and intermittent sniffles that have greenish mixed with blood snot. I have yet to decide which is worse.
Oh and the fever. Yes the fever. I feel like I'm burning up, heat waves pouring off me. Then eventually, in between moments of lucidity, I felt the heat slowly burn off. And the headache is coming back...
Yes right now...even as I type. I can feel the menacing ache running around the back of my head, ready to do war on my already damaged grey matter. It surprises me that I can still be able to write like a pro, well, as pro as I ever was. If I'm pro at all in the first place...I think I'm deluding myself.
Ah yes...that old, familiar feeling. That feeling of equlibrium upset and torn apart. I feel like if I stand up now, I will fall over. My chest...it hurts. And my left arm aches, little electrical sparks running up and down that limb. My throat feels drier than the Sahara Desert.
...with my kind of luck, we can expect a sudden rainstorm to descend on those burning sands. Life loves to prove me wrong.
I feel so far away. Saliva dribbles unconsciously onto my t-shirt, and I wipe it off with one hand. I feel...giddy. Warm. Pain. It hurts? Yes yes...it hurts...
Brooding clouds speed on hidden wings
Bear the pain and sorrow swift on the winds
Thunder whips and cracks on shattered dreams
Life sways and turns on a single whim
Howling gales scream and weep
Choice of the child falls into the deep
Crimson sheets fall from Mother Sky
Single query remains "Why?"
Nice. Poem. I told you I write better in pain. And when better to write when I'm in real physical pain? Emotional pain is one thing, physical is another. The scars of the body will fade in time, the scars on the mind will linger forever.
Cracks in the walls... Don't you see? Haven't you seen me at the wall outside the laboratory, stroking the wide crack there? Once broken, it cannot be undone, only hidden...
Single shriek glides on silent wind
Sorrow echoes, fade and dim
Darkness covered with sheets of white
Hark, the baying of wolves in the night!
Son of shadow cloaked in robes of light
Evil hidden is not evil wiped
Scars seared on blighted flesh
Blood seeps through wire mesh
Death rides on swiftest steeds
Bringing news of a fallen weed
Sands of time flow and shift
But scars of time fail to fade and ease...
Another one. I'm on a roll. And they rhyme. They actually rhyme. Do people read these stuff? Perhaps...my teachers should read my poems and grade them. I've always had a dream, a dream where I sit down for a major examination for Literature, and then open the paper to see the unseen poem. Only to find that I was the one who wrote it. What a pipe dream huh?
Anyway, it's getting late. I'm tired. Awfully tired. My throat throbs with tiresome frequency. My heart palpitates indignantly, protesting its existence in this hollow shell.
I bid thee farewell and good night.
Godspeed.
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