I’m Finished At Last and I Am Full of Joy!      OK not really…

 I’m sitting here underneath my streetlight at the end of another day. I feel strange. Restless yet exhausted, bored but uninvested in doing anything, sad but indifferent. I’m filled with a bunch of rotting unexpressed burdens and thoughts, and perhaps a tiny bit lonely for once. I mean, I should be at this point- considering the months that i’ve been isolating and not talking. Given, most of the people I would usually talk to are currently out of state, otherwise involved, or we really just don’t connect all that much- exchanging convenient formalities and surface banter. I’ve long felt alone in the presence of most people, and trying to feel less alone has never succeeded much past an extreme rarity of fleeting collisions- probably why I haven’t bothered much with people for the last few months. Nothing sates the feeling of being perpetually alone- and even more so unknown. I haven’t had a satisfying two- sided conversation in too long. 
        I’m not complaining- after all, it’s not that i’m exactly hitting up all the local social joints either. Of course, i’ve also been immobile again for a number of reasons- one of which being a huge repair on the car I just purchased and being more sick than usual. Perhaps i’m talking out of both sides of my mouth, given my vehement swearing off of people. It’s been my decision to remain vague with people lately because of so many hostile interactions on whoever’s behalf. So I’m just going to say whatever i’m feeling, in an inappropriately long vent rant, because I wouldn’t dare tell anyone else- just to give another person the opportunity to throw it back in my face as they so often do. 

          It’s a world full of talkers- eagerly cutting off others to offer myopic advice, formulating their next thought instead of 




           I test someone- giving them a bit of moderately benign information, and usually they’ll use it to make me feel even more shitty and unheard. Perhaps i’m sensitive- but I never have been before… I’m so goddamned sick of assholes who say things like:
“There are people worse off, being tortured, dying of cancer, or starvation.”

For which I feel so much better and i’m happy and just glad it’s them and not me!!!– Are you fucking kidding me? That just makes me hate the world we live in even more- where the innocent are oppressed and compassion is a growing minority. And thanks for belittling me too.

Or even better… People who respond to others pain with:

“You had it coming!”

“you shouldn’t have ______”

“you shouldn’t complain (aka it’s really bumming me out).”

Really!? I can’t even unbiasedly tell someone what’s actually going on in my life without it being labeled as complaining, or being cut off to be told “it’ll all be okay” when they didn’t even care to let me finish my apparently worthless thought- which is evidenced by the lack of anything but a closed- ended reply, telling me that they don’t give a shit about the details and can’t return the civility. 


       Maybe i’m not as cold- hearted as I play off, because I honestly do care about the details of others lives and want to understand every facet of something that’s important to them. Clearly most others don’t and just want to throw out a solution (as if I had never thought of something so simple) to shut up anyone that makes them feel remotely uncomfortable, or that they don’t have all the answers and experiential understanding of everything in the world. 

I don’t understand it. 
How can anyone be so swift to judge and condemn someone whose life they have never lived- pain and soul, never felt?

              Let me make it clear, I don’t want pity. I want to know that someone else in the world knows and understands. I want to be able to be finally vulnerable with someone without suffering salted wounds veiled as “good intentions.”
Just. Stop. I can hurt myself. 
It would likely prove more helpful and enjoyable.

        I know that there are still wonderful people in this world, I know. Either i’ve just recently had a bad stroke of luck, or there’s just something imminently wrong with me- of which i’m open to either. I did find one random person to just listen (despite my loopy, inarticulate rambling that afternoon)- and I had to laugh after I had essentially spent 45 minutes systematically working though every profanity I could summon in violent repetition- to find that he was a Presbyterian minister. I hope he prays for my soul, because I equally find the most “godly” people to be the most infuriatingly talented at making me feel like there’s a hot spot in hell just for me. 
           I’ve really avoided these subjects- amongst the number of others i’ve yet to address for it being so frequently conveyed to me that my thoughts and feelings don’t matter-but it’s really been brought to the surface in light of the number of (i’m just going to call it like it is) tough circumstances. If you’re still reading this, you probably haven’t failed to notice the ambiguity of my bitching. Beside the obviously prevalent themes of unalleviated despondence, inescapably nonspecific feeling of a looming doom, and an unapologetically shameless death wish unfit for child audiences- I did recently discover that I have Lyme disease, and a couple of its Mono- esque co- infestations. 
           Some people don’t know what it is, some people believe the dogmatic adage that a simple round of antibiotics fixes it, and then there’s the people who actually had- or more commonly- have advanced Lyme. I try not to listen to the latter when they tell me about it being incurable, or leading to countless awful things I won’t mention. It’s actually not an easy thing to treat- hence the decades of controversy and the poorly defined CDC- abiding MD who will gladly prescribe painkillers and psychiatry to cope with the residual symptoms of the disease the antibiotics “cured.” yeah…let’s talk to the doctor who has actually treated themselves for it…
           Anyways, long story and an even longer, dry textbook short- I don’t like saying I have any disease, but have been advised that I allow for the possibility that it’s recently been affecting me more than I will admit. I’ve been trying to do everything I usually would and more. I don’t want to identify with terms and labels, because even I know the mind has power. 
I don’t want anything else to keep me down, control me, or incapacitate me further. I seriously don’t want to “just accept” one more thing. Again questioning the diagnosis; I recently became so angry and determined to mind-over-matter my body that I set out that evening on a personally unprecedented mountain running escapade and ended up getting heat stroke. It was only 76 degrees out- but I didn’t realize I had a fever when I started. I realized then that maybe something really was wrong. I mean, I can barely even go in sunlight.

Though undeniably, there also isn’t any other real explanation as to why my physical and mental health has continued to decline- worst of all being that no one but me can see any of it. I can’t prove anything that is so real for me, and conventional blood tests in the arena are often inconclusive based on a number of continually changing factors. I keep questioning if I really have it. 

 I just told myself that depression is why I randomly run to the bathroom to throw up.                       It was why the doctors just shrugged and said “Chronic Fatigue.”                                           Why everything hurts- muscles taut- about to rip, and my entire body filled with lead.         Depression most be why I wake up feeling like I didn’t sleep at all, or can’t feel that I just drank a pot of coffee and multiple prescription stimulants, only to fall asleep. Depression must be why I feel as if something has possessed my blurred mind, and feel so isolated and terrified to witness the delirium in my mind- of which I can prove to no one as I suffer through it alone again.             Feeling like there’s always a constant pressure at the base of my skull, stiff neck, daily migraines, fevers- pain- all of which mixed together, interchanging to compose the time I wake up until I fall asleep. 
           It must just be the depression or I’m crazy- until so insidiously it became more, because I can’t rationalize away that nothing is wrong or just chalk it up to being a fuck up- that and i’ve never heard of depression causing fever.
I’m continuing in various treatment modalities and my own studies, determined that I’m not going to be another long Lyme story. Though I won’t lie that in these months it’s been predominantly lows-

But it’s my fault.                Everything that happens in my life is my fault.                                         I’m not trying hard enough.              I must have asked for it.                    I must get off on this.                      It’s all in my head.                                I just want to be lazy.                          I must have agoraphobia and that must be why I don’t want to go anywhere. 
I’ve heard it all- I’ve even repeated it to myself after hearing it enough times. 

I’ve been wrongly tested and disbelieved-

But I’ve decided that i’m fucking done with people who feel that everything merits blame, those who use guilt and shame to motivate, and those who judge what they’ve never tasted- because I know no one is going to defend or advocate for me but me. 

Yes, my decisions impact my life, but I, of all people, know that I am trying with all of my strength in life-And to those who say or infer such as the above condemnations to anyone struggling with an invisible illness:
You can go fuck yourself. 🙂 


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