Late Night Post

Depending on the time that you usually go to bed, I consider twenty to nine edging towards the 'late' side, particularly as I've been making an effort to bring forward my bedtime since catching a horrendous cold earlier this week.

So, here I am, half of my hair still managing to hold the curls I created earlier in the afternoon, and completely bored out of my mind. What a wonderful end to the week! My eyes - which give a frightful glimpse into the exhausted state I'm currently in - are drooping like a flower past its prime, while my skin reacts to the sudden burst of summer heat, unsurprisingly in the form of bright red blemishes. Without a layer of foundation to cover my flaws and my energy levels running out of steam, I feel somewhat different to the person I was during the day - though appearances do influence one's feelings, I must admit!

To my disappointment, this evening has ended in tatters thanks to one problem which, until it occurred almost an hour ago, threw me into despair: I lost Wi-Fi. Whilst reliving my life in the fabulous teen comedy, Mean Girls. Just when I needed a burst of girl world inspiration, the Sky Go website lost its signal and, inevitably, the film I was keenly watching - needless to say, it transpired to be one of the most disastrous moments in my life!

Bearing in mind that I'm waging an ongoing battle against a cold and face the potential prospect of going back to school tomorrow (I took the day off on Friday, albeit my reliance with Calpol had not yet transformed into a full-on obsession), I'm not in the greatest of all states right now. Poor little me, the hormonal teenager whose problems mainly lie within the region of her oily T-Zone - surely there are more pressing dilemmas to think about in the world? Until I recover from what I hope is a temporary illness (though suffering from it until Sports Day has passed wouldn't go amiss), my relations with normality are tied as I focus on the important subject of all: myself.

Whenever I'm ill, there are very few moments given to thinking about anybody apart from me because, as my family line in a queue to offer me medicine, drinks and a bar of chocolate (if my behaviour is comparable to an Oscar-winning performance), it is all which remains in the centre of my self-obsessed mind. I give into the impulses from which I typically restrain myself because my good-will is used elsewhere, and it results in my recreating the five year old version of me. As unpleasant bugs and colds were rife when I was little, I'm transported to an extent to my childhood if I ever catch a virus, therefore making me revert to a child-like persona until the illness leaves my system. Yes, I don't need telling twice that it is childish to behave like a whiny and non-stop moaning kid when I definitely possess the brains to know better, but who cares - especially myself - when there is a cold to be fought? And if ice cream and days off school are included in the package, suffering from an insignificant illness doesn't seem like a big deal any more.

Anyway, that is not to say that I have been doing absolutely nothing this weekend, although the boredom fairy has visited me several times over the past few days. From baking some muesli cookies (which, despite being oh-so-addictive, have robbed me of my favourite breakfast) to completing some Religious Studies coursework, I've tried my hardest to keep myself occupied throughout the weekend, and have regained a sense of pride with my determination to carry on somewhat normally. Whether I will feel well enough to go into school tomorrow has yet to be confirmed, but the mornings - and getting out of bed against my freewill - are the hardest part of being sick because you just want to sleep all day. Indeed, I would give into this temptation quite happily, but as soon as it occurs to me that my hair gets greasy after being slept on, I'm out of bed like a rocket. My desire to gain beauty sleep might evoke a display of vanity, but I will stop at nothing to protect my grease-prone locks!

As I write this at rocket-fast speed, there is a sense of sleepiness in the air, and my blocked nostrils struggle to catch a whiff of it, their struggle yet again reminding me of how poorly I feel. Ugh, it was just my luck that I caught a cold at the end of my very first week at school over a month ago - who would have expected that the same thing would have reoccurred a couple of weeks later? Although I've lost out on one day at school, this hasn't stood in my way of gaining more knowledge, which included this unforgettable fact: colds are much worse in the summer than during the winter. It has taken me fifteen years to realize it, and I only pity myself since I learnt it a few days ago.

Oh well, c'est la vie, isn't it? Some days, you cannot believe your luck and are filled with hope for the world; at that moment in life, one cannot think of any negatives surrounding life, instead focusing on the positives, which are as endless as Justin Bieber's arrests. Yet this mindset becomes the opposite if an unfortunate incident turns your world upside down - literally! A cold might not be the end of the world, but it is enough to get on my nerves and affect my mood. After all, isn't illness upsetting for those affected with it? I keep telling myself that it could be worse, which is true, but I prefer to take my mind off it and apply my attention elsewhere.

The sky is darkening and the sun is about to disappear beyond a jungle of countryside trees and colourful fields. A new week will be starting soon, along with a refreshed outlook on life.

Whatever is coming, I'm ready for it.