Sat in my bed, silently crying.
I want to stop – need to stop – because in a few moments someone will come up the stairs and say goodnight to me and I can’t have been crying. Because I am strong and nothing is wrong.
Who am I kidding? Right now, I don’t feel strong. I feel pathetic and weak. Because I just wished that I was normal again. That I could have my past life back. I want my drinking days back. My flirting days. The days when I would work hard and then go out and party just as hard. When I had my long hair and I could drink anything, do anything, be anything, say anything. Nowadays, that is just not true, nor is it possible. And I feel horrible for believing that my life is worth less now because of it. I curse my disease – my ‘managable’ disease of many many layers – with blind rage.
I feel as if I am being constantly watched. If not by my family, by close friends – especially the guys – and it is making me very paranoid. And just a little frustrated and angry. Everything has changed and I wasn’t the one who changed it all. My body did. My actions are now a reaction to my body. Everything I do now is surrounded by how it will affect me. It is no longer care free. I have to be responsible like never before. My main concern is my health.
And with good reason. And I don’t deny that I must do that. And I won’t not do it. I just want something. Some distraction away from it all. I want another human being to just accept everything I currently am and want to make me happy. And it depresses me ever so slightly that there is no one here to do that.
It is hard to find the balance between everything. Its like it all falls onto the very thin edge of a sword. Could go either way at any moment without notice and nothing can stop it happening. How did it get to this?