Why yes, I am spending my last day as a 23 year old in bed in a coma. Why you may ask? Well mainly because I was sleeping rather restlessly and my dreams were all weird and I realized I didn't feel well. So I woke up and was sick to my stomach. Let's just say I didn't know whether to sit in front of the toilet or on top of the toilet. Awful awful awful. After completely clearing my system of all comestibles I drank about half a glass of water that Nae brought me (evidently I woke him up... he sleeps in the basement). Then I felt pretty good and went back to bed. Then I woke up again 2 hours later, same story, on repeat. Awful, awful, awful. It was one of those nights where you felt okay about, no, more than okay but better by sleeping on the cold bathroom tiles (with a clean towel as a pillow ) just for safety's sake.
Even though I am laying here and have not really gotten up all day, which sounds nice, it is not really redeemable for such a night. In fact I would rather have nixed the night before for a nice night of sleep and be in my office right now designing that brochure and working on that powerpoint.
Perhaps this will make being a year older look better in comparison. Maybe I will equate last night to my younger years and that I can only go up from here. That being said, I do want to state that I don't mind getting older each year (not that I consider myself old), and I get excited for each new stage of life... the drawbacks as well as the benefits. New found responsibilities and freedoms alike. I know it isn't all a bed of roses or anything, but that is what makes up life. I guess even nights like last night make up life.
So right now, I am just laying here, living, living and afraid to eat anything... ever.
P.S. It turns out that one other person who ate at the same restaurant as me had a similar experience that night. I no longer want to eat there...ever...again.