Does it ever stop

@Fluttershy1 that sounds perfect. I've got Casper with me to snuggle up to and my weighted blanket on me.

@Fluttershy1 beautiful words lovely, are you able to get warm?

Being cold is just as bad as being too hot.

Thank you for sharing your poem with me ❤️🫂

@Fluttershy1 i hope you feel better soon.

@ENKELI @MissGremlin @creative_writer @tyme

if you are congested in your chest then 1/5 grated fresh ginger root steeped in near 600 ml boiling water with lid on for 20-25 minutes is really helpful. if you have sore throat then fresh sage leaves chewed are almost certain going to cure that. If you are feeling flu-ish then cutting up a clove of garlic finely and adding that to a spoonful of raw honey and you will get 4-6 hour boost to your energy levels as well as an immune boost. Vitamin C along with that, or a few raw parsley leaves, and/or half lemon freshly juiced really help that immune fighting ability along as well.

i hope you are feeling better soon.

Enjoy @MissGremlin

@ENKELI - no problems, I’m warm now. I’m watching pitch perfect 2 and laying in bed so the the blanket.

just chilling. It’s quite calming.

Thanks @DownMoreThanUp - I’m just chilling watching movies. Got Vicks on which is helping

@Fluttershy1 glad to hear you're cosy now. Your weighted penguin sounds wonderful.

Penguin is my spirit animal 🐧

I love penguins @ENKELI - they are cute

@Fluttershy1 yes, they are the best bird.

I always say that penguins are short, I am short.

Penguins can't fly, I can't fly.

Penguins are plump, I am plump.

Therefore I am a penguin 🐧 ☺️

I have penguin socks, slippers, penguin beanie boos, stuffed animals. Even my wallpaper on my phone is of penguins.

The only animal I love more is my cat 🐈

@ENKELI @Fluttershy1 @MissGremlin @creative_writer @tyme

To Self-Pity

Your lies isolate me inside my pain,
pulling me down where no light stays.
Who could ever find me in that place—
buried beneath these endless days?

Life in that miserable pit again,
where breath feels thin and hope runs dry,
where every thought turns back on me,
and even truth begins to lie.

Hurting—agony without a witness,
no hand to reach, no voice to hear,
just echoing walls of my own despair,
telling me no one’s coming near.

Are you so vital to my living,
that I must feed on what destroys?
Consuming sorrow like it’s substance,
while starving out all truer joys?

Why keep walking this worn-out road,
this cycle carved in pain and strife?
Why cling to what keeps taking life,
and call it somehow part of life?

No—lay it down, this bitter weight.
Let it fall from tired hands at last.
There’s something more than this small prison,
more than the shadow of the past.

Choose not the pit that calls you back,
but the ground where breath is wide—
not forced, not earned, not fought for hard,
but given… waiting… just outside.