This Is Not My Life, I Don't Want It
Previous - this entry written on May 05, 2002 at 8:34 pm - Next
Things I wanted to say... I had them, I did. I can't remember them now. It's slowly slipping away - all of it - in a blur.Scott is over, it's game night, and I swear he's ignoring me. Which, coupled with Grr's comment about how he doesn't want to be around me and Mikey at the same time... *blinkblinkblink* Erp? It makes my head hurt. Almost as much as looking at food makes my stomach crawl, which in turn is almost as much as breathing and moving make my side hurt, which is a HELL OF A LOT. Tomorrow. Monday. The medication scripts should hit the pharmacy at 9:00 am, just a little over 12 hours from now. It's sad that I know this. SHIT. I just bent over to pick up the fork I dropped when trying not to throw up. And now there's more pain. More. Always f'ing more. It's not stopping, is it? It gets worse, and worse, and worse... it's not stopping. It terrifies me. Sooner or later, either it'll stop or some night when I don't have enough medication and am alone, I'm going to just take a knife to it, cut out the pain, and... ...sorry. I'm feeling a bit stressed. This really hurts. I hope I can drive in the morning. I hope the doctor actually fills the script. I hope that I can finally get that damned Pain Contract signed. I hope this works out. I hope. I hope. I hope. Hope is a waste of time, isn't it? *puts her head in her hands, sighs, and totters off to curl up and cry*
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