Everyone should know what it's like to have a cold and a fever, but it's very uncomfortable, very uncomfortable. My situation is different. Everyone else is getting better, perhaps the darling of the field. I'm getting worse. From a sore throat at first to a cough and runny nose at the back to a fever, it's like dreaming.
Of course, I can endure physical pain, but the most tormenting thing is mental acidity. Every day, as usual, I get up, but I feel the breath from my nose is hotter. After I sat down in the library, my mind was in a daze. Maybe it really reached the critical line. After all, it took almost four days to catch a cold. Four days let me understand that the cold of 999 has also failed, my brain hurts, my nose is blocked, my throat hurts, and there are people around me, many people. I asked the minister for a regular meeting leave, and asked the teacher for an afternoon off from physical education class. When I write about holidays, everyone around me is addicted to their own world. The library is so quiet that I can hear my burning breathing. Soon, the words I just typed were blurred. I rubbed my eyes and waited until the line of sight was clear, only to find that there were two more hot tears on the screen of the mobile phone. I quickly wiped it, but how did this happen? In hindsight, I found that the bitterness mixed with slight pain in my nose had already dissipated in the air with endless tears and filled my whole world.
I don't know why I feel so sad sitting in the bustling library crowd. I don't know why I feel so wronged when I take time off to type. I don't know why my tears will flow again after wiping. That's weird. That's weird. Obviously, I just think it's risky.
Then I fell asleep. After sleeping for more than ten minutes, I obviously felt the sticky feeling left by the tears on my cheeks. I woke up, dragged my heavy body to make a leave note, signed a note for the teacher, and then went back to the dormitory to rest. After getting up, I was greeted by a lot of unfinished business. It is also full in the afternoon. After all, I finally went to the school hospital to see a doctor and take medicine. The doctor's uncle said I had nothing. After dinner, I returned to the dormitory. I seemed no different from before, and I seemed to have a strange feeling. Until my roommate took my temperature-unexpectedly, I had a fever, 38.2.
Suddenly, I felt unprecedented ease and unprecedented pressure. How contradictory! In the contradiction, my mother sent me a WeChat voice, asked me if I had recovered from my cold, and told me to pay attention to my health and rest. The familiar voice seemed to have a kind of magic, and I understood everything in an instant.
All, all the grievances and sorrows of the day were solved in my mother's sentence "Have a good rest". I want to cry again. It's really hard for me to cry and get sick. It's really hard for me to cry and get sick alone in college. All I know is that it's really hard for me to cry and throw up.
In fact, I just hate being dependent on others!