They say that creativity strikes at the most unexpected times. Usually, that’s a metaphor. Tonight, it is a biological imperative. I cannot sleep. I cannot breathe through my nose. The Mucinex is fighting the NyQuil in a gladiatorial arena inside my stomach, and the resulting energy is a weird, vibrating hum that demands to be typed out.
A short preface or postscript written when you're well again — something like: "I reread this a week later. I don't remember writing half of it, but I meant all of it." i wrote this at 4am sick with covid
Water is good, but electrolytes are better if you have a fever or diarrhea. Options include Pedialyte , Gatorade , or clear broths. Avoid caffeine as it can be dehydrating. They say that creativity strikes at the most
I sat there, hunched over the blue light of my phone, the only anchor in a sea of shivering shadows. The world outside was silent, indifferent to the static screaming in my joints. I wrote these words not because I had something profound to say, but because the fever made the silence too loud to bear. I wrote them to prove that even when my breath felt thin and my thoughts were tangled in a hazy, shivering fog, I was still here, stubbornly existing in the hollow silence of four in the morning. I cannot sleep