no epiphanies this week

Ladies and gentlemen, a break from my usual weekly posts. No epiphanies this week. My brain is like a giant soup bowl. I pick at random images like they were little bits of mushrooms.

I’ve always seen myself as a strong person. Physically, I’m not as sickly as I once was. This has me believing that my body can take a lot of shit. Pushing my limits, I tested my body as I continued convincing myself that I needed to do 500 different things at the same time.

I was a very sickly kid. I remember I couldn’t really play with the kids from our neighborhood because I couldn’t keep up with them. By the time I reached puberty, I had already overcome asthma, dust allergies and a recurring case of tuberculosis.

I wonder if my Slumdog Millionaire review needs editing. With this stupid sickness, I’m not sure if I’m still making sense. I am writing this on my home computer. It’s 2:02 and I was supposed to be at work by now. Why am I here? I’m on sick leave. Boo.

I don’t get sick too often but when I do, I get so incapacitated it’s not even funny. My skin still smells like menthol and camphor. My nose is so blocked, my boogers have boogers. I can’t form straight sentences without coughing or deeply clearing my throat at least once. I hate it when I’m sick.

My biggest decision of the day: should I see a doctor or wait till I feel better?

My second biggest decision: should I run to the store for some pickles? I need pickles. With salt. Mmmm…

I find myself missing the strangest things. I didn’t even know I had a coffee addiction until I was told I couldn’t drink anymore. I miss coffee. I miss mundane conversations with friends. I miss tasting food instead of just swallowing it. I miss quiet times with my family. I miss work. I’m practically chained to my bed. Lukewarm water has become my only friend.

We must never push our limits. Sometimes, all we need is to stop and resume when everything’s better. Pushing our limits doesn’t really do anybody any good. You never know when you get a bad day and pushing your limits becomes one big pimple that suddenly pops. Don’t wait for something like that to happen. Rest if you must. Settle things before the molehill becomes a mountain.

I wish my brain and my fingers were at an agreement. My thoughts have become fevered. I think it’s high time I went back to bed.