I just want to have fun for the next little while. I’m tired of ignoring my phone calls because I’m worried it’ll be my doctor on the other line. I want somebody to take me out for a night, and I’d like to forget my problems for a few hours. I’d like to go to bed with something on my mind other than bad news and problems.
I’m a bit rusty, forgive me.
So lets try this again, a post a day since I have a lot going in my life right now. I guess I just need to vent it out or something since I don’t want to burden my friends and family. I haven’t even told my mother yet, I’m scared to. She’s been through enough already, my brother’s death practically killed her and here I am going through something similar. I don’t want to put her through unnecessary pain but I know I have to tell her eventually. I want to wait though, I want to wait until everything’s over. In my head I imagine myself getting better and than telling her “Oh mom, don’t worry I’m getting better now”. That’s what I want to tell her, but the fact is right now I’m sick, sicker than I’ve ever thought I’d be. Well, I guess that’s a lie. I’m sicker than I’ve ever wanted to be again. I’ve always been unhealthy, it seems like everything that could go wrong health wise has gone wrong since the day I was born. I was born premature and my mother wasn’t allowed to hold me for two months. I lived for two months without ever feeling the warmth of my mother’s breast. Then I turned three and there was something wrong with me. I was ill, and the doctors didn’t know what exactly was wrong with me. When I was five years old they told me I wouldn’t live to see my tenth birthday.
I’m twenty one now. Different disease, new diagnosis, new dead line.
Triple threat? Not really.