Yes, I'm not feeling that well today. Actually, I have the least severe cold you could ask for, and yet I still feel terrible. I hate being ill. In fact, what I hate more is being moderately ill. Because, although I feel all congested and have a headache, I look fine, I sound fine, and for all intents and purposes, I am fine. Except that every time I have the slightest cold, I descend into a morose self-pitying apathy. In an odd way, if I was actually more ill, I feel less sorry for myself. When I had the flu and coughed to being nearly unconscious (Thomas, I am still grateful for you rescuing me from having collapsed into the toilet), when I passed out in psychology (Thomas, I am still not so grateful for you telling me to shut up) or when I was in Australia vomitting every ten minutes, I felt much less sorry for myself than I do now. I think it might be because, when I'm properly ill, I don't have any guilt for feeling unwell, I'm not expected to do anything - when I have a cold, I still have to battle on despite feeling miserable, and also, it might be because I do appreciate a bit of drama. Coughing to passing out, is, in a macabre way, quite fun.
Or maybe, it's just because I'm a guy and I have man flu.