She smells her own hair, the long, limp, blackened strands of it. How long has it been this long- long enough to strangle her? How long has she been sleeping?

Her hair feels slippery between her fingers, but the calluses on her palms catch at the ends; rough, she is roughened, and does not know why. Her palms are coarse and brittle looking, but she flexes them and feels them full of strength.

Her hair smells sweet, like a flower she once knew. It isn't a pleasant sweet, though- it is a cloying sweet, a sickening sweet. It is the sweet scent of rotting flowers and rotting meat she smells.

Curious, she lifts the ends of her hair to her mouth, and finds it dry and tasteless. Her fingers, however, carry the lingering taste of decay.

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...>_< Hate being sick. Hate being sick. Hate being sick. Hate being sick and drinking three liters of water in an hour, because then you really need to pee but holy fuck do you not want to get out of bed.

The real reason I never cry is because it gives me the mother of all headaches, and it doesn't go away. I should sleep, instead of staring at the computer screen, but I can't. Head hurts too much.

Whine, whine moan bitch whine moan. You ever play the worst case scenario game? The "Oh, look a doorway in this hallway. Worst case says it'll slam open just as I walk by and break my nose into hundreds of bloody fragments" game, or "Feck, my stomach hurts. It could be my period...but it could also be e. coli, or even ebola." Or, one of my favorites, "Whoa, I got sick pretty fast there. Wonder what I have- common flu, bacterial meningitis, or the flesh eating bacteria."

*sigh* The problem with knowing all these random facts is that you can come up with some real doozies of disasters when you're in pain and whatnot. Bah. The worst is the door scenario, but it's not my nose that gets broken; instead it's my teeth, and the shatter and my mouth ends up full of blood and bone fragments. I'm deathly afraid of tripping and falling and breaking my mouth. I'm also deathly afraid of disease, and of vomiting. The vomit is more of a "oh god, it's disgusting now i'm going to throw up too and then i'll still feel nauseous and i'll need to throw up again and i hate the way it feels and gaaaahhh" kind of thing.

*sigh* Yup. Hate being sick. Excuse me as I whine prolifically.