I Wrote This At 4am Sick With Covid 〈Extended ✧〉

I Authored This at 4am, Unwell with COVIDAs I lay in bed, surrounded by crumpled up tissues and empty water bottles, I couldn’t remove the feeling of anxiety that had been bothering me for hours. It was 4am, and I was in the midst of a COVID-19 induced fever dream. My body pained, my throat was painful, and all I wanted to do was sleep. But my mind had other ideas. As a writer, I’ve always uncovered peace in the quiet hours of the early morning. There’s nothing about the stillness of the globe outside that allows me to tap into a deep well of creativity and focus. And so, despite my physical unease, I realized myself reaching for my laptop and starting to type. At first, the terms were slow to come. My fingers felt burdened and awkward, and my brain was foggy from the medication. But as I began to write, something odd happened. My symptoms started to fade into the backdrop, and I found myself lost in the rhythm of my musings.

I penned This at 4am, unwell with COVIDAs I lay in bed, surrounded by crumpled up tissues and empty water bottles, I couldn't remove the sensation of anxiety that had been tormenting me for hours. It was 4am, and I was in the middle of a COVID-19 caused fever dream. My body hurt, my gullet was painful, and all I wanted to do was sleep. But my intellect had other ideas. i wrote this at 4am sick with covid

At first, the words were slow to come. My fingers felt leaden and awkward, and my cerebrum was foggy from the medication. But as I began to write, something unusual happened. My signs commenced to fade into the surroundings, and I realized myself engrossed in the rhythm of my ideas. I Authored This at 4am, Unwell with COVIDAs

You never understand what you might make, or what observations you might gain, when you’re functioning from a space of fragility and openness. And even if you’re not a “writer” in the classical definition, I promise you that the act of making can be a strong tool for healing and development. As I look back on that 4am writing period, I am reminded of the value of discovering purpose and objective, even in the darkest of periods. And I hope that my story can serve as a monument to the life-changing power of imagination, even in the face of hardship. But my mind had other ideas

I wrote This at 4am, unwell with COVIDAs I lay in bed, encompassed by crushed up tissues and vacant water bottles, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of restlessness that had been plaguing me for hours. It was 4am, and I was in the middle of a COVID-19 induced fever dream. My body pained, my throat was tender, and all I wished to do was sleep. But my psyche had other plans. As a writer, I’ve always found comfort in the quiet hours of the early morning. There’s something about the peace of the world outside that permits me to tap into a deep well of vision and focus. And so, regardless of my physical pain, I discovered myself reaching for my laptop and starting to type. At first, the words were slow to come. My fingers felt heavy and uncoordinated, and my brain was foggy from the medication. But as I began to write, something strange happened. My symptoms started to recede into the background, and I discovered myself lost in the rhythm of my thoughts.

As a writer, I've always discovered comfort in the calm hours of the morning. There's something about the stillness of the globe outside that enables me to access into a deep well of imagination and concentration. And so, despite my corporeal discomfort, I found myself extending for my laptop and starting to type.