I'm not feeling terribly well today. It shouldn't be a huge surprise; I've been playing hard lately, going out and running around and generally not sitting still for long enough to even let the tiredness hit me. I've been enjoying myself greatly but I've finally hit the point where, when I do let myself relax for more than a few minutes, I feel the exhaustion wash over me like a wave and I think to myself: Maybe I should try and sleep more than five hours a night. Maybe I should stay home, not make plans at 10 PM, opt out of the party, stop obsessively baking cookies and pies and tarts (but not cooking any "real" food, god no) and traversing the city at every opportunity, and just let myself sit still and quiet.
It's hard for me. Mania seems to be my fallback mode right now, as it has been for much of the past year. But if nothing else, I absolutely hate being sick while living by myself. Being sick is never fun, and while I lived with other people I always tried to take as much care of myself as I could when I was ailing. But in all honesty, now that's when I most wish there was somebody around to be there for me. Somebody to go to the store and buy me orange juice and saltines. Somebody to hand me a cool wet washcloth, rub my shoulders, pop in a movie, turn the lights low, kiss my cheek and tell me I'll be better soon. I feel needy and alone, more tired and ill than I would probably be if there were actually somebody here. It erodes my resolve to be who I am by myself, and I resent my illness for that.
I'm not sick yet. But because of the threat of that loneliness, I'm staying home tonight and treating myself well. Putting in that movie or cracking that book myself before I wish there was somebody else here to help me do it. In a day or two there will be time for cookies and bike rides and friend nights and all of those other good things that I'm so lucky to have filled my life with, but tonight it's just me. And a lot of Emergen-C.