(No poem for this one).
I've been sick for the last four or so days, to varying degrees. Thankfully, it has not been too bad- I believe the worst of it was when I briefly had "the chills," as they are called, and had that dreaded feeling of warm coldness throughout my body. Besides that, I have only a cough, that dreaded cold taste- though it is not so very strong this time around- and, as of this morning, a slightly congested nose. Because of the news' propaganda, my mom is scared half-witless that I may have the DREADED swine flu: but I know I don't. My mother's family is immune to the flu: I know it.. And I, too, am.
But that's not what I am going to write about.
I am going to tell you that since I fell (slightly) ill, my mother has regressed about five years in her treatment of me. She is treating me like a child.. Which I have never been fond of. She asks, frequently, how I am doing and then asks again about five minutes after. She feels my forehead and then caresses my hair.
I don't know what to think..