It's
New Year's Eve and every time I move more of my precious life blood
pours out. Sorry...I know...Gross out factor 10/10 but it's a
reality faced by a huge section of the population so please be
generous of spirit. Or not, whatever!
The
weirdest thing is...its okay. I'm taking the prescription
again; I forgot a couple of days and this is the scary result, so I
should be back on track by tomorrow night. I will, however,
still need medical treatment, and I'm ill. Its such a blessed
relief to finally admit this and stop fighting it. I'm going
with it, I'm transforming.
I've
told my friend this, as his texts are relentlessly hopeful, 'hope you
feel better soon' 'hope this...hope that' In the end instead
of my usual 'thank you', I yelled (texturally) WHY? Why do you hope
that I get better soon? I LIKE being ill, its honest, its
painful, its uncomfortable, but its ME. Its a different kind of
Me, not the me that runs around cooking and cleaning and googling
your symptoms and worrying about your appointments, but a Me
who is not at anyone's service. I'm like a bus at midnight, I'm
Out Of Service. Closed. Out Of Order. Thank Fuck.
If
I now wish to be alone, or read, or sleep, or write, or weep or pray,
I shall. Transformation time!
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