"times are tough. blah blah blah. things will get better."
will they? will my family recover from me becoming an insatiable drain on their physical health, emotional stability, and financial standing? Is my recovery worth it? some days it seems like the quickest, easiest fix would be if I just disappeared. no more worrying about bills. no more concerning yourselves with whose turn it is to look after your adult son.
existence...wake up. take these pills- there are 17 of them. have blood drawn. sometimes just a vile, sometimes eight or nine viles. stab me with another needle. i don't care. i'll be your pin cushion. i'll be your statistic. put me in a protocol. learn from my disease.
helplessness...no money for transportation no money for treatments. no money for food. no money for comfort. i've drained them all.
the facade...when you look at my eyes you never realize that this patient expression is constantly fighting back tears because i have become someone i am not: inadequate. incapable. detached from reality. broken off from society.
regret...i have never experienced true love.i have never been to europe. i have never really lived. and now, here i am. taunting death with chemicals. come and get me, death. i'm just one false diagnosis away from shaking your hand.
frustration...no one can understand the way this feels. to think that every sunset i see might be my last. to think that my disease is slowly killing my parents. oh, the guilt i feel torments me more than any of the physical pain i've experienced.
i want to be well again. more importantly, i want to stop draining those around me. they didn't deserve this.
i have so much love and joy i want to spread. but these angel wings have been pinned down by forces beyond my control. someone please help me, as I am determined to soar once again.