By sunday the bodyaches ceased. The headaches were gone and the fever had come down drastically; although still lingered. Most signs of the flu vanished, cept for the sore throat that felt like it was ripping apart everytime I coughed. And through it all, the ex stayed by my side.
He ensured I eat as much as I could. He ensured I was comfortable but still taken care of in order to fend off the flu that consumed me the entire weekend. He asked me over and over again if there was anything he could do. And all I could reply was a shake of the head. The sore throat was bad enough that if I spoke it would erupt in a nasty cough-fest of phlegm; not a pretty picture ... nor did it feel all that great.
Either way, the ex was in all his glory. "And he is human" he proclaimed when he realises how sick I really am. There I am, head throbbing, body aching, all in all feeling like shit ... and he's happy about it. Although, if you were sick three times and your bf not even once .. you'd begin to wonder too. Nevertheless .. he was happy that for once in a sickly state he can take care of me. As mentioned, all signs of the illness were gone .. say for the sore throat; for which even the slightest word would make me cough. And so I said none ... well, said very little anyways. And that which I did speak, was spoken in a very soft tone. And this the ex took advantage of every moment he could. Knowing fully well I could not even speak a witty, assish come back with every snide remark he would say. And thusfully, throughout the day, whenever he could .. he would attack. And all I can do is glare ...
What's rather ironic is that this lil scenario is rather symbolic of my relations with life. I do not speak.
What I mean is that I do not engage on full throttle, soul-baring conversation. Not even with my parents. Not even with my best friends. There is alot about me that goes unsaid, and alot that is assumed. At times, I'm so caught up in thought that other people, other observers would know me best than I do. Even when the ex and I were together, whatever he knew about me is stuff he asked .. in his terms, he had to yank it out of me. I don't think it was a yank, I just won't share it willingly. If you ask, I'll tell you. But other than that ... I'll continue to live in my head. Besides, half the time I don't know what I'm thinking ... how would it sound aloud?
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