Being sick really sucks. I was very sick once, so much so that I had to be admitted to the hospital not more than half a year ago, when the influenza virus somehow entered my system and fought against the immunities that was within. It won, and I was taken in to seven nights of an unhappy hospital stay, where I finally recovered after a month of suffering and unpleasantness.

I used to think that I was somehow invincible, that no disease could touch me so long as I ate right and did my exercizes and so on and so forth. Such is the understanding of youth, and since then (and before) I have realized that nothing is really as simple as it seems. Illness will come to you whether you like it or not, and some things you just cannot win against, it seems.

And there are times where only God can help, after all my screaming and demanding. I never take any disease afflicted on me lightly, and He definitely hears my cries.

Yet, I wonder if these are more or less a result of my works. I know that I might have angered him to a point where he feels it is time for me to look at things anew instead of the road I have chosen. A rude wake-up call, you might call it.


Or a test of some sort. I don't exactly consider myself a religious man, but I have my thoughts.


Listening to: