there once was a girl who died from a cold
Introduction
Sometimes I get sick. I get sick because I am unhealthy. I am unhealthy for many reasons, however listing them is pointless. The most important thing to remember is that it is of my own accord and nature that I am sick. Bad fortune hasn’t found me, I don’t dawdle among carriers of contagious viral disease, nor am I genetically inadequate. I am simply sick, body and mind.
Thought
Is the ocean blue because it reflects the sky, or is the sky blue because it reflects the ocean? Has my body turned a particular periwinkle because my mind’s been humming the blues under a cartoon cloud? Or do the blues hit body and mind at the same time, perhaps in the form of rain drops? If the blues play percussion on my head, which one gets the first riff? Mind or Body? Body equals head. Head equals mind. But I’ve made it clear the transitive property has no jurisdiction here.
Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Did my hard boiled brain hatch this infected, chicken-bone body? Mad chicken disease-that’s what I got. Was it the plucking of now brown feathers from contaminated flesh, flesh destined for greaterness (wings, or maybe white meat nuggets), that cracked my mind’s once white shell and let in the disease? Let in the disease? Or let it out? Maybe not into, but from the crack seeps this viral yolk.
Conclusion
I do not fear my own pending ending. An inevitable downward spiral is not only expected, but invited. My greatest and only concern is my own contagion. I am a lost cause, but the others can still be saved.
