SpikeTheLobsterHead Cold
February 17th 2009 00:27
The beast is within me now. It sits behind my eyes, burning the retinas, making me blink painfully and forcing me to focus more than usual on each word as it flickers onto the screen.
Since the first waking moment of the day, it has fed on my essence, growing stronger, larger, heavier with every passing hour. It seeks to fill all the corners of my head, those private places of musing; to fill them with its thick, mucus-like secretions, inhibiting thought and slowing my movements. It begins to spread its dark influence further, working down into my neck, my throat, scratching and clawing at my larynx.
Once it is there, little can be done. It will take strength from anything I eat. It will absorb liquids like a demonic sponge. It knows that I cannot escape and it is amused. Its laughter sets my head to pounding, the drums of its guttural chuckles causing a rhythmic throbbing as I struggle to kill it with the feeble weapons at my disposal: orange juice, paracetamol and rest. My best hope is to sleep, to fight the monster in my dreams, to relinquish consciousness and allow my body's microscopic protectors time to lay siege to the enemy in my skull.
I hate head colds.
Since the first waking moment of the day, it has fed on my essence, growing stronger, larger, heavier with every passing hour. It seeks to fill all the corners of my head, those private places of musing; to fill them with its thick, mucus-like secretions, inhibiting thought and slowing my movements. It begins to spread its dark influence further, working down into my neck, my throat, scratching and clawing at my larynx.
Once it is there, little can be done. It will take strength from anything I eat. It will absorb liquids like a demonic sponge. It knows that I cannot escape and it is amused. Its laughter sets my head to pounding, the drums of its guttural chuckles causing a rhythmic throbbing as I struggle to kill it with the feeble weapons at my disposal: orange juice, paracetamol and rest. My best hope is to sleep, to fight the monster in my dreams, to relinquish consciousness and allow my body's microscopic protectors time to lay siege to the enemy in my skull.
I hate head colds.
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