[Quote of the post] "I'm not str... not strong enough." --Mr. Incredible
[Song of the post] Canon in D - Rock Version
I'm not strong enough. I never was strong enough.
Another fever, another twenty-four hours of mind-wrecking muscle pains. Even now, my arms are still so fragile, my legs so weak...
Weak...
I fell sick again on Friday. Sore throat and sneezing in the morning, but that Friday was going to be a wonderful day. I told myself, I must be strong. I went to school.
I ignored the chill winds of the air-conditioning. Ignored the increasing lethargy in my limbs. Ignored the slowing down of my mind. I kept ploughing on, through the day, because that day was supposed to be great. And I couldn't fall sick, because the next day was very important.
An hour before school ended, I had a slight fever. I was sent home. Maybe I shouldn't have sat in the air-con 74. At least I didn't fall asleep and end up in Thomson.
I took lunch at home. The hot food made me sweat. My mom couldn't tell if I had a fever because I was sweating too much. Hmm. Maybe if I got well in time, I could still go for the Math seminar. I went to sleep for an hour to recover. Kev called me; I woke up. He asked if I was going. I thought for a bit. Which is more important? FPS > Math seminar. Alright then, I'll forsake today. I should go rest so that I won't be sick tomorrow.
I woke up again at about 4.30pm. It was cold. But the sun was shining... oh no. Fever. And it suddenly wrapped itself around me, a chill so cold I curled into a ball. Shivering, trembling, I cried out. My mom brought me to my bed. It was so cold...
I took medicine. The fever started to subside. That was good. Then there was something else. Something started rising in my legs. A pain, a burning pain... I couldn't move for the unbearable pain. I kept shouting. The pain was too much. I couldn't take it. My mom told me to keep quiet and stop wailing. It was irritating. I couldn't take the pain. I couldn't. I was too weak...
At night, I thought I could make it for FPS training. No, it was too cold. I could barely speak; my teeth chattered and my words stuttered. I let them know I couldn't come, but I was worried. What would happen the next day if I couldn't make it? I had to know. I had to be strong; I had to heal myself by tomorrow or - argh, the p-pain... th-the c-c-cold...
I called them. I had to know. And when I spoke to them, their voice, their words of care and concern, the soothed the pain, they brought the warmth... and then they had to go. I had to hang up, and the warmth was gone; I was plunged back into the dark nightmare of writhing pain and freezing cold.
That night before I slept, in my fever-induced-delusion, I thanked everyone. I thanked everyone I knew who was worrying about me, who was caring for me, so that, in the slightest chance that I didn't make it...
But I did. The next morning, my fever had gone. My muscle aches only hurt if I exerted them. I could go for the FPS competition. I wouldn't be letting the team down, wouldn't be letting Mr Azmi down. They all put too much into the dream for me to dash it against the rocks just because I got sick.
I got there. A little late, but there nonetheless. I managed to hobble around the campus with my "hurricane". We did the problem. It went quite well, whatever Zhang says. The team postponed the FPS lunch to a time when I got better. So I had to go home.
But I didn't want to. That was where all the cold and pain was. But I had no choice. So I went home, and slept. Had lunch, then slept again. All the way through, until... it got cold again. Mild fever. Too cold... couldn't move... And then I started worrying. If I have fever now, that means that I'm still not well, which means that this morning I still wasn't well, which meant that I could have passed my virus on to anyone of my friends. I wanted to call, to see if they were alright, but then I hesitated. That would be stupid.
And so I have mild fever relapses throughout the night. This morning, though, I'm fine, except for my nose (which still runs) and my muscles, which are still sore.
I still have half a world of homework to finish. My arms still ache and my head still hurts, so getting through them isn't really easy. Coupled with the fact that I could have another fever relapse at any moment...
I'm not strong. I'm weak. My body is weak; my mind is weak; my soul is weak... I'm not strong, desperately clinging on to straws that might help me, supported by other, bigger, better, stronger people. And how am I supposed to help other people, if I'm not strong enough to help myself.
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