Misery (just call me Kathy Bates)

The worst part about being sick is being alone. Here you are, basically miserable, looking like crap, your body weak, your mind a blur, every move and breath a mini-struggle, and all you can do is lie in a star on your bed/sofa/floor/tub/toilet until it passes. Your life is on hold, so somewhere in the distance, responsibilities that you cannot attend to at the moment are piling up. Time seems endless, as does this comatose state. Even Jell-O, your main course for the past 2 days, does not seem to make you happy. You try to switch from Orange to Strawberry, but to no avail. You add applesauce to your hot oatmeal, and it makes you smile (because its good and maybe you invented something neat), but only for a little while; until you realize you are still alone, sick, greasy-haired, tired, achy, standing in your kitchen eating applesauce and oatmeal before going crash in front of yet another movie, in an untidy apartment where all your plants are dying, and that what you will probably do is eat oatmeal and watch movies all day.