I stare at the cursor blinking on the screen. It is a heartbeat. Still here. Still here. Still here. I’ll likely read this tomorrow—or whenever the "tomorrow" is where the fever breaks—and find it nonsensical. But right now, in the stillness of a house that feels too big and a body that feels too small, these words are my only anchor.
If you are reading this and you are also awake at 4 AM—sick, anxious, or just lonely—know that you are not alone. We are the night shift. The fever dreamers. i wrote this at 4am sick with covid
This phrase captures a specific kind of raw, unfiltered vulnerability. It suggests a mix of fever-dream creativity and the physical exhaustion of being stuck in "quarantine time." I stare at the cursor blinking on the screen
If it’s been 4+ hours since last dose: Still here
If you are reading this, and you are also sick, staring at the blue light of your phone while the rest of the world sleeps: Hi. I see you.
were written with a "fervor" born from the fear that the author might not be there a month later to record them. Critical Reception: Impact vs. "Dazed" Art
But for now, the sun is coming up. Drink some water. Close your eyes. We’ll try again tomorrow.