My hands are cold, almost frigid. My muscles pulsate, twitch and become strained after hours of inactivity. It's as if I'm locked in a constant semi-recumbent posture. My back is aching and I cannot, despite any and all attempts at quelling my pain, get comfortable.
Sleep is an all-too foreign concept at times, it seems, as well. I've got many natural remedies to treat my maladies, but they only provide the most temporary relief. I pray for panacea. I meditate on balance and composure. All while sitting idly by.
I spend my recent winter days sitting in a small room surrounded by few but welcome comforts. The numerous vents bellow heat, almost to the point where you forget the season.
Everyone here is comfortable.
I am not.
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