At 2:25am sleep should have long ago found me. Rotted flowers knows I’m certainly exhausted enough. Pain has a way of doing that to a person. It exhausts you. It makes every breath, every blink seep out of you like last weeks squishy tomatoes. And you would think after 37 plus years of it I’d just be able to suck it up. That’s what society expects anyway. To that…to that as sit here in bed with my laptop on my legs acting as not only a therapeutic outlet, but a heating pad of sorts…to that I say “Fuck You”. Unless you have lived it, I don’t really want to hear your grand insight.
What a way to start a new blog eh? It is what it is. I’m not here to sugar coat it, I’m not here to make anyone feel better about their life by thinking, “at least I don’t….” Yea…great for you, here’s your trophy. Go ahead and put it on your mantle.
And I know that reads like I’m this horribly angry, bitter soul. I’m not. Really. I promise. Ask my closest friends, ask my Sister, I’m not. I don’t hide from the world. I’ve been and done more than most people without a chronic pain/autoimmune based illness have.