i have the flu. fever. no appetite. no energy. luckily it has avoided the throat and nose. so it’s more of a tummy flu. i must surrender to being sick. last night i felt my body shiver with fever and on off till 5 am. woke up and realized i have no advil and had a fever. so i called postmates for the first time. wound up paying eleven more dollars to get it delivered with tip, but it’s worth it to know i can live alone and still get what i need. being alone while sick feels sad. vulnerable. i wish i had a washer and dryer in my apartment too, not three floors down. i am wishing in my heart for more abundance. to not live so twenty something. but at the same time i am trying to be grateful. postmates saved the day. i was able to take a hot shower. i was able to change my pillow cases. the negative mind is ready to pounce. i see her. she feels lack. sickness always brings on feelings that health suppresses. why can’t i get lost in a book or movie? my mind cannot contain all the stories. i have school books i can read too. but i feel too sad to read. i feel like i have fallen and i can’t get up. but i also know, as the observer, that this too shall pass. that these tender sad feelings are the creature longing to belong to a family or a partner. i just don’t want to be alone anymore. each day it hurts. but often it doesn’t hurt. i am just hurting now cause i am sick and fragile and sensitive. i am also repeating myself. i thought it was cool how my postmates driver delivered orange juice and advil to me at six am. she was young and very put together. probably a student. i love early morning. if i had a car i could be a postmates driver at 6 am too. i could nurture the sick and lonely by bringing them goods from safeway. i can’t stop crying. every two minutes, more tears. i think i am overwhelmed. it’s hard for me to ask for help. i am good at helping myself. i see the patterns and understand the feelings. my brain is always on par with the meta level. here is a woman with the flu, sad and vulnerable in her little studio apartment with no extra full set of sheets. there’s a feeling of everything draining out of me. blood, feelings, hopes, days. dramatic. i guess that’s just me. no design flaw.