Gosh...I think I am seriously sick, and there is not a single trace of humor attached to it. I woke up to dizzy spells and profuse night sweat, and as I made my lunge to the toilet to barf the leftovers of my dinner. So yes, my stomach feels like it has been wrenched from my body and turned out like a cheveril glove while it takes every ounce of my energy to keep my eyelids up. My mum tried to stop me from going to school, but I insisted and being the academic intellectual she gave up without much protest (well at least she didn't see me barfing a second time).

So yes, I'm killing my corporeal cadaver off when I lugged this carcass to school. Some people commented, 'Wow Nash, you look ashen. What's with the lips?' I could manage only a weak smile but left silently wondering about the part of the lips. So yes, I discovered what they meant when I popped to the toilet to take a leak. Sheesh...it was in a tinge of purple. So yes, to amplify the damage, I had to have physical education. As Kendra, 'My stomach was in knots when I was running...', I felt that mine was scrunching up. God...three rounds have never felt so long in my life. Obviously there are the additional rounds after the conditioning and all, but all the recesses of my energy was used to hold back the stuff that was threatening to come out again. So yes, excruiating torture, holding back barf is not exactly my idea of fun.

Somehow or another I managed to survive the mundane academics of the day's lessons (including the horrendous Maths test) and yes I tried to stuff my self with something before I go home to supply my revenues of energy. I confess then that I overslept in the train and it was till Pasir Ris that I found that I had overshot...felt pretty much like an ass then. Luckily no one saw me in my moment of folly...an echo of the fool in all of us. Thankfully I wasn't drooling though---that would be downright sinful.