Just Breathe

One of the things I know well about myself is that I am a total whiny cry-baby when I am sick.

And I am sick. A-fucking-gain. What the hell, immune system? Actually, a coworker today asked if I’d legitimately gotten rid of this nonsense from a month or so ago. Maybe I didn’t. I just know I don’t like it. Not even a little bit.

When I’m sick, I can take care of myself. I will drag my sniffly self to the store to get more tissues (dear lord, the ones with lotion are saving my poor little nose right now…ouch), I’ll force liquid medicine down my throat if I have to, I’ll stay home from work and sleep on the couch and get fluids in my system and all that stuff. I know when I have a fever and when it is breaking/how to break it.

But bloody hell, it’s been a rough day. Being sick makes me want to cry at EVERYTHING. I remembered that as I choked back tears walking out of a meeting today, when the only thing that bugged me was that I didn’t get an answer I wanted right then. Stupid shit, I know this.

At this point I just want someone to let me curl up next to them and have them play with my hair even though my head kind of hurts and rub my back and bring me soup and not really care if I fall asleep leaning on them and not mock me if I snore because I would since I can’t breathe through my nose.

Guess who’s too damned stubborn to call anyone to have them do that? This girl.

I just want a hug. And to be able to breathe through my nose. But mostly a hug.

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