Sweets of Solitude.

I cannot sing right now. That is a curse worse than death. I do not know what I'd choose --- a life without a voice, or a life without another true love. For love is life, but song is my own.

This flu is simply...it can go to hell. There is nothing more humiliating than sitting there playing World of Warcraft, passing what you think is gas...and instead, having shat yourself. I've never thought of intestinal issues being associated with a flu. Bah.

Couldn't sleep for a long time because I couldn't even swallow the saliva my body naturally produces. I could swallow nothing without squeaking. At least my skin doesn't feel extremely painful to the touch anymore. But I woke up in a sweat 4 times in the past few hours due to my fever, which hit 101.8.

At least that's what I think it is. My weird thermometer says 97.7 on it when it starts. So I add 9 to every temperature it gives me, and it tends to make sense.

Idk why I still go for Derek. He is the sweetest loveliest guy but...he needs to not put everything into a cage in the back of his head, and not want to hear about me. Idk, Chris is open and sweet, but I don't think he'd be the same for me as Derek was in a crisis. Derek knew to tell me not to, to stop me...he stopped suicide for me. But I was too clingy, as I always fucking am. I always scare the guys away. IT. ALWAYS. HAPPENS.

My head is singing with tinnitus right now. Nothing but about 3x-as-loud-as-normal singing of the ringing of the brain and the electricity in my mind.

I'm not sure about my life right now. I mean...finally it's been proven to me that I can feel fuzzies in real life...when Chris put his arm around me for the first time, it felt comfortable. Unlike most where I felt awkward and uncomfortable. And I just felt fuzzy and comfy.

God damn I wish I could fucking swallow my own saliva. I used a towel last night for a spitoon.

Oh yeah, had some dreams...Derek stopped some guys from harassing me in a lunch room in it, it was nice. Also caught some fish. Damn I miss fishing so much.

Also a guy living in a house made of boxes and things he found on the street...

Fucking fever.

Fucking swollen...everything.

Idk why I'm blogging atm. Maybe...well, that would explain it, I could be going into a mixed or a hypomanic state of my cyclothymia. But I dunno. Could just be the fever fucking with my head. And body. And everything.

Sleep tight, Buffy. Wish me heal quick.