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Life with a fever

I see people and their photos of things and experiences of their life. They are living, they are happy. You know how you get a cold, and then fever, and it hurts, and you realize how wonderful it feels to be well? Like you just ignored it all this time, when you were just fine, physically and mentally. And when you recover you feel wholesome, you appreciate being.. 'well'.

It's that phase in my life that's less than perfect. Perfect is never perfect. Perfect is when you're happy, even though things - didn't really turn out the way you wanted them to. Even though you don't have what you really wanted, but you're okay. You've nothing to worry about. Nothing to face. Someone to talk to. And things are ordinary, but you're goin' on. That's perfect, and if we realize that perfection, we are grateful, and hence - happy. We are happy with what we have, because we are not facing anything difficult. We haven't lost anything, or anyone, and life hasn't turned upside down. We have our work, we have our lives, a decent weekend, and we don't get lonely when we're reading a book on our cosy beds. We are happy. And then, we get a cold.

And then we get a fever. And the fever turns things upside down, and we see everyone else is fine, and it hurts - but it teaches us something. It makes us stronger than we were. We tell ourselves that we've been naive, but those who are willing to wear their hearts on their sleeves, are the true heroes. They are willing to be damaged, they are willing to feel sadness, fear, anxiety, anger. And that - is true bravery. Some of us become cold, and sharp. We build up walls around us and raise our egos and we don't trust anybody.

We don't want to get sick again, and go through the emotional roller-coaster again, but it is better not to live at all, than live in fear of getting a fever.
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