Fever Dreams...I Hate Being Fucking Sick.Submitted by Ducky at 2005-10-22 11:27:21 EDT
Rating: 1.14 on 19 ratings (19 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
I’m ill. Like bronchitis-fever-seal cough ill. I was going to call this ‘I’m coughing up Phlegm Thicker Than Your Mom’ but then decided to go with the nicer (though ultimately pussier) alternative. I tried to kill this bug off with a positive attitude, but my sinuses, lungs, and throat gathered round and collectively bitch-slapped me. Then they said ‘fuck you and your attitude you sissy…it’s called fucking medicine. When you’re done flitting about, thinking about rainbows and kittens, maybe you should fucking try it. Unless of course you like creating 6 liters of mucous per hour’. My sinuses, lungs, and throat swear too much, and they treat me like shit…ungrateful assholes. So now I’ve adopted a positive attitude towards medication, and I think I’ve knocked the 6 down to 3. Right, I think I wrote a post in here somewhere…I wish I could sleep.
“What are you doing?’
“Leave me alone, I’m busy.”
“Busy? You’ve been sitting there for ages. Did you drop something in the water?”
“No. Just go away.”
“Have you looked around lately? You need to get out of here.”
“Why would I look around? Nothing else is this beautiful, so it doesn’t matter.”
*I feel it hit. Like a shockwave rushing through me…my body convulsing and the warmth taking over. I crumble to the ground and wait…incapacitated, for the current to seep through my body and find solace in the ground. It takes it, absorbs it…sucks it through my blistered feet. I rise, groggy, and remind myself that I have to keep moving.
Fine. Perhaps I won’t tell him of the storm that is threatening. Dark clouds on the horizon…I can smell the impending rain. I know it will muddy his precious waters, and quickly peel away the layer of ignorance. I have felt its anger, and he’d have noticed it too, if he were willing to tear himself away.
*I run. Tired and beaten, I am lost but not broken…kept alive by the other- always two paces ahead, and never ceasing to forfeit. I drag behind, like a leper chasing the healthy…so much of me is missing. Vision bleary and eyes watering, staggering in an attempt to reach out for the familiar…only to find that it no longer wants to be touched.
He is still sitting there, by that pool of tepid water. Gazing intently at a vision of beauty, he remains blind to the life being swept out from under and around him. He is so content. I wish I were that fucking content.
*So I stop, brokenhearted, and stare into the abyss. It is where creatures exist only in shadow. A darkness broken only by a dull glow, where the sun as I know her…eking her way through one too many layers of cloud, lives a pallid existence. She sits unseen above, and alone in her fury.
The boy…the boy is fading…
*I awaken with a jolt. As if someone has mistakenly diagnosed me…gone straight to the paddles while my insides are screaming that I’m fine, just exhausted. A quick gasp of air that stings my throat as I rise, finding myself tangled in sweat-drenched sheets, fevered and aching, and wondering if I’ll be able to get back to sleep.