Skrying Through | Avandrya

Skrying Through Jan 10, 2009 5:01:40 GMT -8

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Post by Delilah Sterling on Jan 10, 2009 5:01:40 GMT -8

Diary #10 - "Winston"
2007-2008

March 18th, 2007

Dear Winston,

My head feels like it's been pinned between two sheets of metal with a torch put to either end. I have chunky green stuff coming out of my lungs when I cough, there is gooey green stuff clogging my nostrils, my skin looks like it hasn't seen soap and water even though I washed my face twice today and my entire body aches the way it might if I'd been hit by a Mac truck.

I promised David last week I'd be his subject for a homework assignment due in his photography class, but feeling - not to mention LOOKING - like this, I called this morning to cancel. I kind of felt bad hearing the disappointment in his voice but my head was so clogged, so feverish, so foggy, I just told myself he would either get over it or he wouldn't.

I put on the first season of Gilmore Girls, wrapped up in about 20 different blankets and put the tea kettle right by the couch, where I planned to anchor my miserable ass until I got better or died, which seemed likely this morning.

Then, three episodes in, there was a knock at the door. I yelled "Go away," but you know how yelling and a sinus infection don't work well together. As I sputtered, hacked, coughed and wheezed in my personal height of unattractiveness, the door opened and there stood David, wearing his camera around his neck. I think I was coughing so hard my tongue was sticking out.

Kill me now, Winston, please.

"Somebody needs chicken soup." He didn't laugh at me, for which I'm grateful, but I could tell he was close to. He made himself at home in my kitchen, while I laid on the couch wishing I'd die before he came back. That'd teach him for laughing at sick girls.

He made me canned soup - master of the culinary arts, that boy - and then he sat beside me on the couch while I coughed into tissues, blew my schnoz into tissues, wiped the guck out of my eyes with tissues, and at one point tried to suffocate myself with tissues. Bastard wouldn't let me.

David had never seen an episode of the Girls before, so I started it over for him. He's totally hooked now. He made me pause the show when he left to go buy me some drugs at the corner store. I didn't think guys were supposed to like these shows, or if they did, that they were supposed to admit to it. I like David. He's not like most guys.

He didn't touch me once all day, even though he sat by me on the couch the whole time and I could tell he was itching to feel my forehead. He respects my space. I wish I didn't need so much of it when it came to him.

I tried to make him leave like a zillion times, warning him that if it was the flu and not a sinus infection he'd get sick and I wasn't as sympathetic as he is, but he shrugged and said he never gets sick. Why do I believe him? Oh yeah, something to do with the horns and scaly skin. Or maybe it's that lopsided smile that looks as good on his under-face as it does on the upper.

For dinner he called in food from the Szechuan Garden. I watched him eat Szechuan Chicken with pork lo mein while I drank hot & sour soup. Even though his looked better, the soup was a good idea and I guess I'm glad he put the twist on me to order it. After dinner, he more or less drill-sergeant barked at me to take a shower and get dressed.

Then, for the next two hours, he directed me to pose this way and that for his pictures. That homework nazi, couldn't he have picked someone else to take pictures of??? But if he had I'd be upset... I was really very pleased he wanted to use me as his subject, even after seeing me at my worst.

When he was done playing with his camera, I found my Polaroid in the dresser and took a few snaps of him before he snatched it out of my hands. "Smile," he said, "You look so pretty," he said, "Look at the frakking camera," he said, until I finally looked at him. "I'm sick of pictures," I frumped, as he took the last one.

He gave the camera back to me. "Here, take one more for me. I'll even smile."

All in all, you know, it wasn't that bad of a sickday.

Diary #11 - "Edgar"
2008-2009

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Diary #12 - "David"
2009-2010