Sick

I'm Sick. Sick, like physically sick, or sick, like emotionally sick? That's a good question. I don't think I even know that answer to that. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I cough too much. I have a headache. I just want to stop. But what made me feel this way? It is my job? Is it the fact that I haven't slept for a full eight hours in three years? Is it the stress of school? Is it my crazy family? Is it the constant pressure exerted on me to succeed? Who knows? you decide. All I know is that I'm sick.

i'm really getting sick of these »give your opinion in a complete sentence« orders. try gentle suggestion; better yet, give it up. ordering writers around is like herding cats.

if i misspelled sick on purpose should i follow the misspelling with a bracketed [sic], to let everyone know i'm really an ace speller just messing around?

sick of asking, thinking, interesting, but really sick of being lonely. And sick of having to stop what I am so interested in, what I'm thinking, stop being lonely and go to the bathroom. I ask no one why but I am still sick of asking.

I rather hope that the most awful punishments in the afterlife will be reserved for those who lack compassion for the sick and the underprivileged in this world – especially when they purport to speak in the name of the Almighty or Christ. The other day, the latest in a long line of unpleasant Catholic spokesmen (a bishop, no less) had the arrogance and cheek to declare that sickness was the result of sin. There speaks a man who has never known the misfortune of inheriting the wrong genes and the undeserved misery of continual illness. Shame on him!