Psychic Relapse

I am ill again. I can barely focus. I am weakened, and I am far from a peaceful place where I can recover. I have not the strength to stumble back home, and I regret my impulsive decision to leave today. This illness saps me of my strength, making me susceptible to unconsciousness. I have been fighting to keep my eyes open for the past hour. I must remain conscious, at least until I can somehow stagger back home. The nausea torments me, and I have emptied the contents of my stomach into Mr. Porcelain. My temperature is erratic, as are my moods. Right now I'm hard pressed to pick which one annoys me more, my fluctuating body heat, or my mood swings. My mind is skipping. I think it's the rising fever. I am ready to empty my body, and collapse on the floor. But I can't. Not here, not now. Why? I can't focus. I'm losing this fight. I have to find my way home. The nausea is making me swoon. I can't decide if I am going to puke or faint.