I hate my body
I mean it. I don’t mean it in the emo teen way of being unsatisfied with my body. It’s vexing that my body doesn’t work the way I want it to. And even if it’s got a relatively high uptime, just as with an ISP, if it goes down even just once a week, then that ISP is shit – and my uptime’s not that good.
It’s annoying that the skin on my hand goes dry as paper for no good reason, with no apparent connection to weather or anything else. And when not, randomly whitlow will develop on my fingers because why not (then go away in a day without a trace). Best even, it’s strictly just my right hand, never my left.
My skin likes to torture me in general, not just my right hand. A decade after I supposedly exited puberty, I still wage a losing war against pimples. The other day one grew on my chest during the day and it was so painful that for a minute my hypochondria took over and I diagnosed myself with breast cancer.
It’s annoying that there is no such thing as an optimal amount of sleep: whatever amount I sleep, it’s either too much or not enough, resulting in that I feel like I was perceiving the world and thinking through some thick jello.
It’s annoying that I need either some nasal spray or fifteen minutes of intense cardio to make my nose functional with regards to breathing (let alone sensing smells) – and even then it’s just a matter of time that it reverts to a state that feels like I’ve got some sponge stuck up my nostrils.
I won’t even get started about hangovers (sometimes lasting a whole day), because at least I know what causes that.