I'm awake. Not because I want to be. But because I have a raging headache. Deep down into my neck. My eyes are watering from the pain in my temples. My vision is blurry. I am constantly ill. I truly and officially hate the world now. How much more? How much longer can we take? This year has started out bad for me. I've been dealing with a mysterious illness since New Year's Eve. Since then it has only gotten slightly better. Now recently, I've been contracting bad, random cases of nausea. It's all tearing me apart. My insides are sick and tired of being sick and tired. My job isn't any better. Sometimes I read my Bible at work just to keep me calm and level headed. It's so frustrating I can't even write about it in my journal. I never keep my journals. They're not meant for anyone else to read. Once I fill up the pages I throw them away. I seriously don't know why I write. Maybe I have a fetish. I've been doing it ever since I learned how to. Things just seem better when they're written down on paper.
Sometimes I feel like dying. But I can't tell if it's spiritual or physical. Whenever I become extremely stressed I become ill. And whenever I become ill I become extremely stressed. It is a constant, never-ending cycle.
I don't care about my family anymore. Is that bad? They call me and I rarely pick up the phone; I simply ignore them. They have all honestly become a dread to me. Or maybe I am the one who has become a dread.
Sometimes I wish death upon myself. Just to escape all the evils and madness of the world. But yet here I am. Still alive and breathing - still pushing. Pushing for what? I ask myself. Why do I do this? The torture I endure in hopes of having a happy ending. All I want is my happy ending. What must I do to attain it? I try to be the perfect woman but I feel I fail miserably. Is trying even good enough?
On Wednesday I will go back to the doctor. I'm sure she will still be clueless as to why I'm nauseated and in pain all the time. I've taken all the x-rays and blood tests. I will not be taking any more medicine or drugs she prescribes for me until she makes a correct diagnosis. It seems I will be dead before ANY physician will figure out my medical woes. Although, being deceased doesn't always seem like a bad state of existence. I wouldn't be sick anymore and I certainly wouldn't have to be a slave anymore.
