I’m thinking only of my illness and my health, though both, the first as well as the second, are you.

     Sometimes I think I'm dying. The moments when my bones are undeniable heavy are the moments when I feel the devil trying to take me again. When I feel nothing but a cruel symphony that sings only of my unreasonable expectations, I feel as if I finally have crooked.  Aren't I dramatic, with my prose made of raven calls and mourning flowers? I can be so emotional, that really is my hubris, my fluctuation of sensations that infects me. I can be so aggressive one moment, then lost in hysteria and finally hopeless. I am a frequent visitor of the anxiety hotel on worry street and one day I hope that my punch card for the stress market will burn away. 

                Back to the point, my health has always been rough, I have a frail body that seeks to perish. Keeping it running is almost a chore, why can't I eat or sleep properly? Some days, I am starving, with the desire to rip and tear through flesh, and other days I see food as a burden to consume. I blame the antibiotics for this, they limited my appetite when I was taking them to the point of only eating yogurt. Unfortunately, that sensation still stays and I still have the desire to eat yogurt most mornings and nights (to be frank at this moment, I the writer of this wretched diary went down stairs to get a yogurt(I am not joking.)) However to contend with my oscillation of being ravenous or empty, I also have the issue of my constant drowsiness that become anxiety filled terror when I try to rest. This I have no excuse, I stay awake most nights just thinking. It can be incredibly difficult to relax, I have found only a few things that bring me calm: A nice cup of tea and a good book, drawing or creating art, and being with my sparrow or even my cat for that matter. Other than that, people and school with their unpredictable and uncontrollable yet stupid natures frustrate me and stress me out. Maybe that's why some nights I can only see my worries instead of dreams.

    I just need to sleep for a while, I need to lay down somewhere comfortable and rest, without my stress chasing me down . Or maybe a hot shower would do me some good, a real long one too. Perhaps everyone I know and talk to ion a daily basis not being idiots would be beneficial too, that is something that would be a luxury.

I'll be fine, I always find the time to recharge and to get healthy, some days, the low periods just feel so low when in reality, they are just ripples on a pond.

“Milena, if a million loved you, I am one of them, and if one loved you, it was me, if no one loved you then know that I am dead.”
― Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena 

“Without you I wouldn’t have moved this way, to speak the language of flowers.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera 

 

Isn't it funny how my two favorite writers wrote letters to their lovers which were later compiled. Maybe someone will do this when I am dead.