The worst part of being sick is that I can’t tell if my body is trying to murder itself, or if I’m just being lazy. I can’t tell if pushing myself to work would be a good thing, or if it’ll kill me. And in the meantime Time moves on and on and on.
For a long time now, the only life motto I’m holding on with is We just keep carrying on. Through wind and storms or perfect daylight. Either against the waves or with it. We keep moving.
It’s not bad. The one I was stuck with before I got sick was more painful. Life isn’t fair and Time isn’t kind, but we have to keep on moving.
I’ve been on sick leave for the last two weeks. A whole week was spent on a hospital bed, feeling useless, but at least I was justified in that uselessness. I got better, but I was on house rest for the next couple of days or so. I should be back to school and work on Monday, but right now I still have hell curling in my head and demons laughing in my stomach. I don’t know.
We just keep on going. But sometimes I don’t know if I should fight the wave or find an easier port and stay there until the clouds are friendlier.
But what if the clouds won’t get better?