❝ Not.... not really, ❞ Zen groans, resting his head on his folded arms. He’s just so damn tired. This damn bug, though; on top f making him feel absolutely god awful, his inability to breath through his nose nor his mouth (the latter for fear of actually hacking up a lung in the process) and the pounding in his head, the anxiety that clung to him made his brain race made it too difficult to sleep. All he could think about was the fact that he was losing ground; he always had to be improving himself, and being immobilized as he was was making the fear of failure, of falling behind, begin to claw up his spin in tiny pinpricks. He’d even made an attempt at practicing in the god-forsaken hours of the morning that had claimed his giving up of attempting to sleep-- only to nearly faint as he did so.