Sick Simple


 

Sick  Simple


Never are the wants simpler than when one is sick or at the beginning of one's life. The head clears–or rather clouds out–other thoughts. You only see the image of your bed or a couch or your favorite afternoon nap spot. You dream of being surrounded by fluffiness, of cuddling on the couch...and sleep, much invited sleep.

All the rest seems trivial. Your throat gets dry so water/gatorade is always essential. But the driving need is to nap and nap again.

Not even food interests you. You force something down the hatchet just to keep your strength up, but you gain no pleasure from it. Your taste buds are as numb as your nose.

No, you just want to rest. Most of the year you rush around trying to fill your time with diversions or worrying about what it is you truly want to do (in that moment, in your life.) Now, all the extras have been taken out of the equation...just the couch and the tv to pass the time. (You don't even like the tv!) You want nothing more because you can't–the brain has stopped snapping and just wants to disconnect while it can.

And this is a relief. You hate being sick, but at least it has brought you back to the basics. It's so easy to know what you want when you're sick...



Photo: <a href="https://pixabay.com/es/users/loggawiggler-15/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=298909">LoggaWiggler</a> en <a href="https://pixabay.com/es//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=298909">Pixabay</a>


Text: Kristen Mastromarchi 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Souvenir

Image
Souvenir It is oh so luxurious to the touch, oh so enticing to the eyes. The suaveness of it, the mauve melding with the fuchsianess of it entrances me even now. There is only one time I remember wearing it, yet I still love it today. I love the feeling as I run my fingers over it, the connection to the totally foreign world from which it comes. Let me go back to the beginning, to the occasion I bought it for and maybe the only time I have and will wear it. We were in China, specifically in Daqing, the oil capital of the country. This was the most eye-opening, significant trip I've ever taken. The juxtaposition of things that boggled my mind (like the oil museum) with the incredible culture (like the Forbidden city in Beijing) still fascinates me.  We were in a very modern mall, trying to get the final details for my good friend's wedding. She had decided to have the wedding she had always wanted back in her homeland, and the dress code was pretty specific. (No bare shoulders o...
Read more

Me vs. the Sea

Image
Me vs. the Sea It happened last week. It was powerful and frightening–the stuff that stories are made out of. I was rolling in the sea. No, more like I was being pummeled by the sea. Liters and liters of it poured over my head, pouncing on me and then drawing back. I knew not to panic: hadn't I learned anything from lifeguard training?  Shouldn't I just stand up and put my feet on the sand? Instead, I reached my hand over my hand, instinctively searching for a sense of up because down had fallen away from me. I suddenly knew why people drown: it's easy to be sucked in by the power of the sea's pushes and the loss of a sense of direction. I needed to breathe. All of a sudden, the surface surfaced as my hand stuck out. I pushed up and gulped air before the sea rolled in again.  I staggered to my feet but another wave crashed into me, pulling me under again. This time the water was shallow enough for me to find my ground. The sea was ferocious. I just wanted to get out uns...
Read more

The After Carnival

Image
  The After Carnival The lights were still on, but the machinery mimicked the insides of houses at that moment: ground down to a halt, the gears in off position. Shadows in human forms moved the air in front of café's yet to open. The idea of lights–this time bright white–contrasted with the solid shapes of humans yet to enter into that waking space. A person pauses in an entrance with a hood over her head, a shadow looking toward the light. Her hands grab onto the shape of an ivory umbrella which was to be set up outside, Moments before, a bulldog had been bathing his head in a pool of light from another open door. The rest of him had been hunched over in the dark, concentrating on his first poo of the day. I assume his owner was waiting to collect it–although the protagonist of the scene was the dog...the human only a hazy sketch in the background. Even people waiting on the side of the road seemed painted into the morning–already anticipating it in the dimensions of a bus almost...
Read more