don’t mind me… i am a leaky, sneezy, wheezy, bloodshot vegetable.
i look like someone’s late-night drinking spree companion. my hair’s greasy and i had been wearing this shirt for two days now. haven’t taken a proper shower. if i were a man, i would be sporting a healthy stubble around my chin, too. i think it’s sexy for a guy to have that. but a five o’clock shadow on me… let’s not dwell on that thought. i don’t wish for you, dear reader, to have nightmares.
i’m busy paying attention to how i am slowly being debilitated. my right nasal passage is stopped up with concrete. the waterworks department may have placed a satellite office right in there as well. there’s an army of miner dwarfs using sledgehammers on my skull, and i think the sandman has taken up residence behind my eyelids. my tongue signals that cardboard tastes like cardboard. that’s fine. but the chicken fillet, the crab and corn soup, the pork tocino, and the dried salted fish also taste like cardboard.
this morning, i woke up the entire neighborhood – tough feat, considering that i now live along a superhighway – with my 300-mph sneezes. i ache all over. my joints are fused to the tendons. my muscles gave up their souls dawn of today, leaving me lying in bed in a vegetative state.
well, gents and ladies, it’s now officially flu season again. and i’ve caught the bug early.
give my love to the healthy folks out there.