I hate being sick.

Generally, I guess it is reasonable to say that I have a high tolerance to pain. Broken bones and torn muscles I ignored, symptoms of illness I overlooked for the sake of my time table, for the sake of myself. I don't like to admit that sometimes my body just betrayed me once again.
So I'd just go on, not saying a word. and feeling guilty for not being as efficient, not as quick. It's stupid, but that's how it is. I'd sneeze, I'd cough, I'd shiver and probably be running a fever, but I wouldn't say a word about it. I felt like if there was no obvious sign, their was no reason for me to complain and bother people with me being sick.
Then I realised that this was slowly killing me. I'd just go on with my life and be exhausted. I was putting on an act that no one asked for. I was forcing myself into silence, because I felt like I didn't deserve the right to complain about something as trivial as being sick.

 I took the habit of complaining when I'm sick. I guess it's more an habit than anything. I used to do as if there was nothing and just go on with my day. And now I complain. I guess I do it more for myself than anything else. By admitting that I am sick and actually easing a part of the frustration in a complain makes the situation real. By saying that I am sick, I actually allow myself to show signs of weakness and not carry on as if everything was alright.

So my flatmates have been hearing me complain about being sick for days now. I caught a cold. Nothing to be worried about. But with my stupid immune system, I just feel drained.
I'm sorry girls. For complaining so much. Thank you for putting up with me.