11.14

Passing Out 14 November 12:57am

Not a dream. It counts, though.

I am sick. I have already thrown up three separate times, once at around noon yesterday, once in the car on the way home with Philip (calmly opening my lunch box because I understood the inevitable, taking everything but the napkins out, and hurking four or five times into the plastic liner), and once at home pretty quickly after taking a few pills for the accompanying muscle pain and enormous headache. I could taste the medicine coming up on that one. Colors: Bright pink (spaghetti), dark brown-red (spaghetti and oatmeal from the morning), dark green (what? Some concentrated physical oat bits in this one). Each time I throw up, I spend the next few minutes sweating and feeling like a new man.
I wake up at (nearly) 1am and my computer is playing some poorly-executed Slacks-style segment from the Kuala Lumpur major. I guess the games are done for today, and I watch Fnatic players facing off against each other. They have to toss a small pyramidal bean bag up and pick up another before catching the toss. Some of them are mysteriously bad. The hosts, a man and a woman, can speak the players' language and do, but only infrequently. I think Ame wins the tossing contest. Little do I know, but I am about to toss as well.
The games are over. Secret play PSG.LGD tomorrow slightly before noon local time. I close my laptop. My mouth begins to water, and I know what's coming. All I want is to drink some water–I'm so thirsty. Nothing will come of that. I pick up my lunchbox liner and hunch over it. My drool spatters across the bottom. I had thought I was done with this pattern, since the last time I awoke, at around nine, I didn't throw up. I wait. My body is fickle. I know I'm about to throw up and there's nothing whatsoever to do about it, but I have to wait for my dumb secondary nervous system to finish its job. (I know there's nothing to do because at 7pm I tried. I didn't want to throw up, so I chose not to. I still threw up. I don't have the control I used to have, or the bug is much worse, or something.)
Finally, I hurk four small waterfalls into the lunch box liner and sit, sweating, trying to decide to wash my mouth out.
Okay. I can do this.
To the bathroom. Dump the vomit, which is nearly clear, but definitely not colored in any particular way. Run some water from the tub into the liner. Stoop over the sink to slurk some water up into my mouth. Rinse. Spit. Rinse, spit. Gargle--
And here I lose the story. Leaning back and gargling is the last thing I remember as real. I suppose I probably did spit, because I didn't have anything in my mouth when I came to, and I don't suppose I probably swallowed. I don't know.
My hands are twitching-terrified. My mind is tabula rasa. I don't know where I am and my butt hurts. I understand this, /in the way of dreams/, is because I hit the floor quite hard. What was that loud noise? Why did I seem to hit the floor twice? And where am I? I'm looking at things but not seeing. There's a noise I cannot comprehend. My arms are down at my side, touching a cold floor, twitching with fright. My legs are utterly weak. I might be dying.
I start to come to, and what do I understand? Oh, the loud noise was me hitting the uncle John step stool next to the bath. Oh, the sound is the constant rush of water into the sink and the drip of water into my lunchbox in the tub. Oh, I just passed out so bad I wasn't aware that I was passing out.

The last time I passed out so badly, I was at Katy's house. I forget what my overall physical state was, but since I have only been sick twice in 2018 (once at camp and it destroyed me for three days) and today, I can guess I wasn't sick. I just was lying on her couch, stood up, and my brain lost the thread. I was sure I was going deaf. I was trying to scream and I couldn't hear anything, so I must have been deaf. I was overcome when I stood up and stretched, and I couldn't even angle myself as I normally do, to fall down forward onto my hands. I fell over back ward and sat directly on my open laptop. (It didn't die then).

I sit on the ground, breathing. When I finally turn off the sink, I notice my flashlight has fallen in and is wet and working. I flush the toilet and empty the clean water from my lunch box. I don't feel as well as I did right after I vomited, sweaty and huffing. I go lie down and type this up. It was the worst I have ever passed out, and the weakness of it is still not gone from my fingers. I practically seized, honestly.
Good morning. Sleep well.

1:20am