It must be a record (for me, anyways). I was writing an e-mail to my cousin in Maine, and realized, about 1/4 of the way through, that it was hideously depressing and gloomy. I know that if I sent it as it was, she would be worried, and since it's just a case of me feeling sorry for myself and hoping someone would listen, I cut it up a bit, decided to post it here instead.
I know I've yet to give a clear idea of what my illness is (as if even I had a clue), but it's more because I haven't figured out exactly how to explain it all. Regardless, what I'm feeling today is pretty self explanatory, and should stand up well all on its own.
The doctor called with some more blood test results, saying how he noticed I have a very low XYZ level. This is not good, he says, as far as other things go. So take these pills, and it should give you a little boost at least. Mom, who just happens to have been in a mood quite opposite to my own, says something about magic bullets, and cure-alls, and I seriously, don't know whether to throw up, cry, or punch her in the face.
How horrible is that?
Hating her for hoping?
But, I've taken these pills before, so I know they're not the magic bullet/cure that she's hoping for and I just all of the sudden wanted to scream at her for even thinking it - for making me think it, for even a second. So, there are days, lots of tiny little days, were I just hate this whole thing - hate that I can't even let other people hope, because it hurts me too much when I disappoint them. And that's the kind of day I'm having.