Facts

Facts: It's 9:59 PM. I started a separate entry because these facts do not belong with those truths.

I have the flu and cannot get to sleep.

It's raining outside.

I do not know if I will go to school tomorrow, even though there's a calculus project due on Wednesday and I told Mr. Lord I'd make up those two Hamlet essays.

I know I must really be sick because I didn't mind missing Latin Club Dance Class this evening, and the idea that I may also miss Ballroom and Waltz on Wednesday bothers me only minorly.

I just paused in writing to read a text from Lee.

He and I will probably continue to flirt intensely until one of us meets someone else we like better. Then we won't speak at all until that relationship begins to fall apart. I expect that our flirtation (round whatever-the-hell-it-is-by-now) will be over by February 20.

This has been our pattern more-or-less since before we dated back in July (for an entire three weeks).

It's a weird, entirely pointless dynamic that makes me alternately disgustingly content and disgusted. How teen melodrama can you get?

He does make me smile though, anytime we get to flirting.

You can read all the reasons the entire thing's a horrible idea somewhere else. I've repeated myself far too many times on that subject.

I just paused to read another text from him.

Lee: Lol well i was going to stop by and throw imaginary rocks at ur window ;)

Good Goddess, my head hurts. The fact that I can't really control it at the moment is another indication of how sick I am. I haven't eaten anything I'm allergic to, so Benedryl can't bring the spike down. My immune system simply can't cope with the flu virus and whatever is at the root of my migraine at the same time. I almost can't tell if the nausea is from the flu or the migraine, although reason dictates that it must be the flu - it takes much higher pain levels to tip me over into nausea.

I've noticed that my journals note the fact that I'm ill a lot. I used to think that was an illusion, that I just tend to write more when I'm sick. This theory handily ignores that I write just as much when I'm not sick. My immune system is simply crappy and lets me get sick a lot.

Maybe I can get to sleep now.

You know, I think there may have been one or two truths mixed in with those facts.

Just don't tell the previous entry.