The seven nested senses, in a sentence.
On such a day as this when sun seems to shine, blissfully oblivious, perhaps, of the human dramas unfolding under its very nose, it seems a shame not to step outside and whistle and wander and enjoy the proverbial roses, or lilies as it were, and yet I seem bound to my domicile, and start to feel a foreboding guilt as intense and even palpable as any of the many complaints from my corporeal being.
I must now put emphasis on the plain fact that the symptoms of fibromyalgia - one particular ailment among several that plague me day and night - worsen noticeably when the sufferer remains sedentary for long periods of time (hours, or even days). Yet, by Murphy's Law, the long stretches of inactivity that arouse much pain and ache in my physical body seem quite often inevitable due to the symptoms of my other ailments (aforementioned though not by name) that frequently prevent me from being active. A classic paradox, there! The nature of my own body seems fraught in perpetual conflict against the nature of my own brain! My muscles almost audibly seem to scream when I neglect to engage them in healthy activity for more than a few hours, while my brain, the grand controller of all bodily functions, protests sometimes quite nefariously to activity under certain conditions. Such as it is, I must slip out for a hearty constitutional during such times when my narcoleptic brain is well-rested and less prone to fits - those which the academics call 'cataplexy' - which would render me bruised, broken, or even unconscious.
Being that on this particular Freya's day, both the internal conditions of my body and brain and the external conditions of weather and sky seem conducive to an outing, it is imperative that I go through the motions of preparing for such an outing presently. In truth, the act of keying each character of this missive is strenuous for my arms and their wrists, due to the myalgic state detailed previously. The pain is beginning, methinks, to detract from that certain quality of lucidity deemed necessary for the act of composition, and so therefore, I shall end this log and carry on with the stated objective.
I must now put emphasis on the plain fact that the symptoms of fibromyalgia - one particular ailment among several that plague me day and night - worsen noticeably when the sufferer remains sedentary for long periods of time (hours, or even days). Yet, by Murphy's Law, the long stretches of inactivity that arouse much pain and ache in my physical body seem quite often inevitable due to the symptoms of my other ailments (aforementioned though not by name) that frequently prevent me from being active. A classic paradox, there! The nature of my own body seems fraught in perpetual conflict against the nature of my own brain! My muscles almost audibly seem to scream when I neglect to engage them in healthy activity for more than a few hours, while my brain, the grand controller of all bodily functions, protests sometimes quite nefariously to activity under certain conditions. Such as it is, I must slip out for a hearty constitutional during such times when my narcoleptic brain is well-rested and less prone to fits - those which the academics call 'cataplexy' - which would render me bruised, broken, or even unconscious.
Being that on this particular Freya's day, both the internal conditions of my body and brain and the external conditions of weather and sky seem conducive to an outing, it is imperative that I go through the motions of preparing for such an outing presently. In truth, the act of keying each character of this missive is strenuous for my arms and their wrists, due to the myalgic state detailed previously. The pain is beginning, methinks, to detract from that certain quality of lucidity deemed necessary for the act of composition, and so therefore, I shall end this log and carry on with the stated objective.