painting, woman, ill, sick, feeling unwell, fluey

I’m more fluey than you

Me: I’m ill

You: I’m just so ill.

Me: I thought it was only a cold, but…

You: I long for this to be a just cold.

Me: I have a razor blade in my throat.

You: Smashed glass in mine.

Me: One minute I’m freezing….

You: The next volcanically hot.

Me: My chest feels like it’s got a ten-tonne weight on it.

You: Someone has tipped my head back and poured cement up my nose.

Me: Can’t eat.

You: Can’t sleep.

Me: If I cough anymore, my head may come off.

You: I feel like my lungs might actually burst out of my mouth.

Me: I would be relieved if that happened. THEN maybe I could breathe.

You: I can’t taste anything.

Me: I can’t taste or SEE.

You: Or feel.

Me: What even is feeling? I have no sensations in my body except horror.

You: I am like Thérèse of Lisieux.

Me: I’m probably like her too (who is she?)

You: That canonised nun who died of tuberculosis. She said, “I would never have believed it was possible to suffer so much, never, never!”

Me: I’ve already said that today.

You: People who say they’ve got flu have never had flu.

Me: I would NEVER say I had flu if I just had a cold. That is insulting to flu.

You: Don’t even get me started on man flu.

Me: They see someone else sneeze and it’s like, ‘I HAVE MAN FLU  – KILL ME.’

You: Imagine if those people ACTUALLY got ACTUAL flu.

Me: I mean, I am 97% dead and I am coping better than they would.

You: I’m, like, 103% dead.

Me: I can hardly hear you, I’m so dead.

You: Sorry, you’re going to have to repeat that. I got distracted by my temperature soaring.

Me: Why do my bones have to hurt?

You: My skin is agony. Seriously, don’t give me a sympathy hug, I might attack you out of self-defence.

Me: I long for that kind of physical strength.

You: Don’t get me wrong, I would die immediately afterwards.

Me: What are you taking for it?

You: Well, hot water and lemon isn’t going to cut it, that’s for sure.

Me: Nurofen is for rank amateurs.

You: Lemsip? Don’t make me laugh.

Me: I can’t laugh, I’m too ill.

You: I feel like I’m never going to laugh again.

Me: If I start to laugh, I will choke to death.

You: Choking to death would be a mercy. I feel like my body is going to ignite and go up like a human torch.

Me: At least you’d be warm.

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