I'm sick. And I'm scared. I've been having these intense stomach painsI’m sick. And I’m scared. I’ve been having these intense stomach pains for almost a week. When I tried explaining this to various adults the best I can come up with is that it’s like being stabbed in the gut. The pain comes swiftly, and is so sharp I either have to stop what I’m doing or double over with the force of it.
The trouble is the pain isn’t in any one place but all across my stomach. Aforementioned various adults have been asking me different questions. Do you hunch over when you walk, or do you walk straight? Does it hurt to touch the right side of your stomach? When you jump up and down does it hurt? The weirder the question the more it just freaks me out! My mom has been talking in terms of hospital visits or at least my pediatrician. But I’m so chill about being sick (cause I can’t go a season without getting ill) that I think it’s nothing. On the other hand the fact that everyone else seems to think it’s something is starting to damage my calm.
The other thing is I’ve been taking more random colored pills than an x-freak. Always over the counter stuff so it won’t hurt me if it doesn’t take care of the problem. Who knew pills came in fuchsia, fire engine red, and Tiffany blue? They’re pretty but they don’t seem to be doing anything. I mean some make me woozy and others just plain put me to sleep. But in terms of pain relief if any of them do anything it’s only temporary. And none of them can fully stop the pains. It’s only over the counter but still! Shouldn’t something stop this???
Hence I’m starting to panic a teence. Oh. Did I mention the throat pain? Yeah that’s nice too.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Friday, May 04, 2007
I'll Regret Posting This In the Morning
I haven’t written here in a long time. Not for lack of inspiration or anything. More like general laziness. I can’t say that’s all going to change because that would probably be a lie. Strike that it would be a lie.
I don’t want to turn this into some sort of “Dear Diary” thing. If I really wanted that kind of confessional I’d become Catholic or actually use the damn journal I have. No, what I think I will do is…okay so I don’t have a legitimate plan. Heartbreaking, I know. For right now the best I can come up with is a stream of consciousness rant that is slightly different from a frilly diary; it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump away from a diary but I think it’s the hop that makes it important.
I’m in one of my melancholy moods. No trigger that I can put my finger on (Wow I just realized how bad of a pun that was, and completely unintentional too). I mean school is boring. I’ve pretty much mentally checked-out already. As far as school is concerned my junior year is almost over. I don’t feel particularly inclined to savor it either. Yet, what I do want to savor are my senior friends. It always seems that I meet the best ones before they graduate. And then I feel this HUGE loss because I just met them and never got a chance to really know them when I could have had three more years with them. Lost opportunities and such.
What’s really got me down is my relationship or lack thereof to me more specific. See, I pretty much gave my heart away a while back. It was a terribly stupid thing to do since he was…oh there are so many good adjectives to describe him. Uncaring. Cocky. Selfish. Rude. Horrible. Wandering. And so much more. Point is it was a mistake. I read somewhere that teenagers fall in love, really in love, for the first time when they’re seventeen or eighteen. Well ring-a-ding-ding I just pulled that pile of crap from the Cracker Jack box. What I’m afraid of is that what I had with this guy was love, because that’s what my idiotic heart keeps telling me. And I had all these happy notions of love. Notions he decided to put his cigarette out in. I see him on rare occasions in the halls and it hurts. I don’t handle pain well.
So I keep dwelling on all of this. The pain, the heartache, the loss, and it just overwhelms me. It keeps building on itself and I just let it. Add a dash of self-loathing for the lot of it, and PRESTO, insta-melancholy mood. Yum.
I don’t want to turn this into some sort of “Dear Diary” thing. If I really wanted that kind of confessional I’d become Catholic or actually use the damn journal I have. No, what I think I will do is…okay so I don’t have a legitimate plan. Heartbreaking, I know. For right now the best I can come up with is a stream of consciousness rant that is slightly different from a frilly diary; it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump away from a diary but I think it’s the hop that makes it important.
I’m in one of my melancholy moods. No trigger that I can put my finger on (Wow I just realized how bad of a pun that was, and completely unintentional too). I mean school is boring. I’ve pretty much mentally checked-out already. As far as school is concerned my junior year is almost over. I don’t feel particularly inclined to savor it either. Yet, what I do want to savor are my senior friends. It always seems that I meet the best ones before they graduate. And then I feel this HUGE loss because I just met them and never got a chance to really know them when I could have had three more years with them. Lost opportunities and such.
What’s really got me down is my relationship or lack thereof to me more specific. See, I pretty much gave my heart away a while back. It was a terribly stupid thing to do since he was…oh there are so many good adjectives to describe him. Uncaring. Cocky. Selfish. Rude. Horrible. Wandering. And so much more. Point is it was a mistake. I read somewhere that teenagers fall in love, really in love, for the first time when they’re seventeen or eighteen. Well ring-a-ding-ding I just pulled that pile of crap from the Cracker Jack box. What I’m afraid of is that what I had with this guy was love, because that’s what my idiotic heart keeps telling me. And I had all these happy notions of love. Notions he decided to put his cigarette out in. I see him on rare occasions in the halls and it hurts. I don’t handle pain well.
So I keep dwelling on all of this. The pain, the heartache, the loss, and it just overwhelms me. It keeps building on itself and I just let it. Add a dash of self-loathing for the lot of it, and PRESTO, insta-melancholy mood. Yum.
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