Nausea. Nausea. Much much nausea.
Body. Mind.
I can’t tell which.

I must get something out. I am unable to tell if its bad food or just a thought.

'No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous
Almost, At times, the Fool.'

Eliot.