I'm sickly. I don't handle being sickly very well. My head is congested. My throat hurts. I can't stop coughing. I have a ringing in my ears. I can't sleep well because I can't breathe. It's awful. It's the end of the world. I give up.
Some people are sick all the time. I honestly don't know how they survive. When I'm sick, my life stops. Give me the stomach flu and I'll roll around on the bathroom floor for a week, crying and whimpering about how my life is ending and begging people to put me out of my misery. A headache? Why yes, I do need to go home from work early because I'm pretty sure I'm dying. Ear infections put me on bed rest, meaning I literally don't move until I'm better, out of fear that I'll do something to make my ears pop, only moving enough to cry when someone puts in the ear drops. When my throat hurts I walk around grabbing at my throat, tears rolling down my cheeks, popping lozenges. Needless to say, it isn't a pretty sight.
There is only one thing that I hate more than being sickly, and that's lacking sleep. Ask my family. I'm a terror when I don't get enough sleep. Foam comes out of my mouth and I start eating puppies. It's not a happy situation. Whenever I'm cranky, my sister calmly asks me if I've been getting enough sleep; my reply usually involves yelling and tears, from which she can deduce that I have not, in fact, been getting enough sleep. I'm scary.
And right now, I'm both sickly and tired. And dramatic. So, this is your warning: Stay away. Far, far away.