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I’m screaming inside. I’m shaking with cold and I’m tired of feeling every little twinge in my body as if I’m about to throw up. I don’t know which is worse: getting sick or the damn medication Doctor keeps prescribing. The more I take, the more awful I feel. The Dr has no idea why this is happening. I’m pretty sure that the first round of meds probably caused all this and now they can’t figure out why it keeps happening.
When I feel better, I have this voice in the back of my head saying, “just wait, just wait.” And when it happens all over again, it’s there yelling, “you’re gona’ die.”
Maybe I’ve been in the house too long. But I cant afford to not work, so working from home is it.
Now if I could just get through till Monday, when the test results come in, to see what the hell I’ve got. Now I’m worried there won’t be some big red glaring thing and they will put me on yet more meds to make me sicker.
Sigh… Ciao
I have my best thoughts in the shower. I let my mind write things. Go over the day’s tasks, things I need to accomplish. Somehow, just like the steam, it all flits away when I step out onto the cold tile floor.
I’m a little disgruntled with life lately. Not sure what is causing my restlessness. Some would probably tell me to go to a doctor and medicate my cares away. Others would tell me to get over myself. And yet others would just laugh at my concerns.
Maybe turning a year older and having a sucky birthday was the capper on my gloominess. I am constantly amazed with my SO and his lack of understanding. He either doesn’t care or is just down-right stupid about some things. He’s given up on making me feel attractive or needed. We just exist. Comfortably, but just exist together.
Halloween has come and gone. The pumpkins are still out everywhere and the trees are starting to catch up with an angry will, dropping leaves in bushels. I can hear the trees sigh and whomph!, all the leaves are on the ground. The acorns bomb the house at all hours of the day and night. You haven’t lived until a 100 foot oak tree drops a few acorns into your truck bed at 3 in the morning.
Maybe I’ll wander out of this in-be-tweeness sometime.
Ciao
Thoughts of an Old Fart 