My life the past month has been characterised by the identity of the wait-ee, I have, essentially, been living in a bubble of anticipatory exhaustion, waiting for life to sort itself out. Things beyond my control have crash-landed into my life this month, certainly life has been fluctuating on the emotional scale lately via said events beyond the horizon of my control, there have been a lot of such extreme emotions, joy, grief, mourning, elation, excitement, exhaustion.. and then this morning I woke up unable to breathe. Nothing romantic about it, it’s not like i woke up breathless from a scary dream or struck by epiphany. I literally woke up with a blocked nose. Finally my body has betrayed me. The final frontier: the physical. I am sick. Time to pop a panadol and go back to bed, with a bit of sour relief and also, disbelief, because the solidity of a body suggests reliability, and the one thing i can grasp and hold on to has turned around and given up on me as well..
As you can tell, the drama queen in me comes out in full force when sick: feather, furs, heels, and all.