I've been lying here for five minutes and all I can do is listen to the hum of the appliances and the hint of traffic on the street below. It's quiet in here, the light is very white, exaggerated by the colourless sky and the puffs of smoke coming from the apartment buildings in the distance. I can just catch a glimpse from my position on the bed. I pause to cough and I feel every bit the pitiful sight I must be. My hair is disheveled, my eyes are red, my skin sallow.

As usual I only seem to write when I am feeling most horrible, which must cause most people to think that I am a very depressing sort indeed. However, despite my somewhat miserable state I am not so unhappy as one might be led to believe. I'm happy to be back home with such easy access to my friends that I felt separated from for the past month while I was away. I'm happy to see the photo wall that Aryn finished while I was away. There is more of course, but every time I cough my mind pauses and I lose my train of thought. Perhaps it was not the best idea to attempt to write at the moment.