Day 9: Speeding to our deaths

I had been ill. Actually, I still am. Yet, regardless of my condition, I must return to classes tomorrow.

No pictures today. I've been sleeping for the most part. But I'm still tired.

How ironic is it for me to believe I have complete control over my health just last night during NSE training, only to succumb to my very own illness in bed all afternoon? Thankfully, I only had to miss two out of three classes today (one was cancelled). Even so, I feel completely disappointed.

How does one know if one is truly ill? Am I nothing more but a pathetic hypochondriac, using illness as an excuse? I detest my condition. This frail body I own is no more useful to me than deeds are to a sinner. Am I lying to myself that I'm ill? For what, exactly, does it mean to be ill?

My definition? I couldn't even write a simple reflective essay. It's absolute bollocks. The words just wouldn't form as easily in my head, and I'm stuck at the simplest of words. The very thing I love strikes at me like a snake.

I just realized how severely irritable I am right now. Everything around me is oppressive. Asphyxiating. Yet, my mind is working so fast that I can't even choose the right words to describe the drowning sensation.

Yep, I blame the literature. I might be losing my mind.

It's just that THERE'S SO MANY THINGS IN THE WORLD TO TALK ABOUT!

...

I need a breather. No, I need to slow down. I think when I look back to this post 20 years from now, I'd be wondering what the fuck did I just talk about?