Athens, Or At Least One Room of It

Hello friends, and I mean that in the most lovey dovey, mushy gushy way possible. It’s been nearly seven months since anything has been truly familiar, save the ten square feet of space I call my dorm, my room, my safe haven. Speaking of which, I’m going to have a hard time adjusting to not having my personal, en suite bathroom lol, but for the trade off of a roommate and familiar territory, it’s a small sacrifice, if one at all.

Without meaning to ask for your sympathy, I was sick yesterday. Not usually anything I broadcast to anyone, as I generally don’t like admitting something a silly as a tiny virus or bacteria can get a huge hunkering human down to nothing productive or useful, but it made me think. And I suppose in the past few months of this blog, friends, I have gotten rather used to sharing those thoughts with the Internet, though it has garnered some surprising, at first glace frankly unwelcome readers.

Being sick was never something I reveled in, though I suppose you could say that for anyone. Some people just have no problem with saying they’re sick, or feeling so, you know? Which is good, in the sense that they usually get better quicker, but. Personal quirk, I suppose. For me it is, quite obviously, the most simple and straightforward admission to weakness.

But given all that, it’s difficult to say that now with the confidence of being sick at home or even in the comforts of a red bricked dorm at Bentley. There’s always a backup plan, a just in case, and the worst thing that happens, really, is that you have excuse to miss a class or two, and really, how bad is that?

And there’s always, always meds. Or in the highly, highly unlikely chance that my wildly overprotective mother forgot to pack an entire medicine cabinet’s worth of herbal meds, there are always friends around with their own, or a Walgreen’s down the street.

But again, with all that said (written yesterday, by the way, and finished now, which would explain the change in tone), I’m feeling eons better, a declaration which in usual circumstances would put me off myself in an instant, since that would be admitting to having something to recover from, which, in my twisted mind, meant that there was some crack in my physique (though I don’t pretend, in any way, to be physically superior by health, appearance, or strength) that would lead to this unforgivable downfall.

But you know, without a headache and dragging feet, Rome is pretty awesome. :)

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