Theatre Aftermath
So sick. So incredibly sick. But happy.
The play went well. Friends and family came, and we all did really well. Friday I woke up and couldn't speak or cough (every time I coughed I started gagging). I should've stayed home for half the day, but I didn't. Instead, I slept during three periods, sat in the hall listening to music during two others, and went to three classes where we did nothing. Wore His jacket over my sweatshirt all day because it's warm and he doesn't care if I get him sick. Fought with Taylor about which one of us go the other one sick. Barely ate anything, and took many random pills to make me feel better. Tried to eat dinner, which just made me feel worse, and almost passed out a couple times backstage (tight dress and hot lights did very little to help). Still went to the cast party, which meant sitting on the floor then couch while watching Grease and laughing at how different our portrayals were of certain characters. When it was time to leave, I was getting chills again and could barely stand straight. McLeod made me take his jacket when I left, which I'll give back on Monday since I probably can't go to the movies with him tomorrow.
Woke up this morning and almost threw up. Slept some more, then came upstairs to say bye to Mark, then fell asleep on the couch for most of the day, waking up at random times. Still eaten very little, but trying to eat more so I don't pass out again (two experiences I really don't want to repeat). Got a call from Him. He's apparently babysitting for a neighbor, and wanted to know how much to charge, but the question seemed more like an excuse. We've had many question-excuses for calling each other in the past. He congratulated me for yesterday and apologized for not being able to come to the cast party. He told me to feel better and hung up; I was too delirious to really carry on a conversation.
Crissa called me, too. Said she just needed to talk, and asked how late the party went and what she should do about McLeod. I told her I was sick and couldn't talk (which I couldn't). I don't know what to say to her anymore.
Still tired. And sick. Glad I did well on Friday, considering I couldn't talk in the morning and had to sing that night. Backstage, I basically sat in a corner watching others and feeling like shit. Many compliments afterward.
So much to do tomorrow. Study for two tests that I didn't take last week, write a paper. Maybe I'll stay home Monday. I'll probably still be sick, anyway.
Last Wednesday I decided not to care. Realized how impossible that would be and am officially confused as of Thursday. Don't know what to think of Him now. We'll see next week.
Micky's mad at me for caring about other people so much and not taking care of myself. Listening to problems from all my friends, only some of whom understand what I'm going through. Those who get what I'm going through with Him have their own problems.
Should sleep. No quotes. Can't think. Love and Hope.