It's been a rough week. I spent most of it stressing that I might catch a cold, and now, despite all my efforts, I'm pretty sure I have. I've been sucking on those nasty zinc lozenges today, because I'm still clinging to the idea that I can miraculously make it go away or control how long it lasts or something. I know I should just give up, but I hate being sick so much. Having a cold doesn't really make me anxious, because I know it's not going to affect my stomach, but it makes me angry, I guess - that I allowed it to happen, that I let the germs "win." No matter how much I tell myself that's ridiculous and that this is out of my control, I still feel like punching things. I still feel like yelling that it's unfair that it's out of my control.
I haven't been sick at all since September 2009, so honestly, this is probably a good thing. I don't need another irrational "streak" to obsess about.
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