Wide awake, my hand grabs my phone, and I stare at the news feed without realising why.
As my eyes scan the words, it feels like a weight starts compressing on my chest. My breathing goes shallow.
Anxiety forms beads of cold sweat on my skin. I tremble, imagine the worst.
A realisation dawns. Me reading news doesn’t impact the fact that I would get the virus or not. It does impact how I feel.
My inner voice is firm.
Stop this. Go read. Sit up in your pillow, drink water, and read a novel. Something fun.
I grab my Kindle. My eyes go back and forth between the words, but nothing registers. Even re-reading a novel I love doesn’t help.
Anxiety buzzes in my ears, louder and louder. I give up and throw the Kindle aside.
Next, the iPad. My fingers find the button for a streaming service. Moments later I laugh myself silly at a show I love so much.
I know what will happen, but that doesn’t make me laugh less hard.
I needed that.
The episode ends. I put the iPad away, turn to my Kindle, and start reading again.
Suddenly sleep overtakes me, and I doze off, a smile on my face.