i've gone through more tissues today than a 13 year old boy.
if dribbling tears were a commodity i'd be "sell, sell, sell"-ing and floating away on my fortune.
i went to the gym today for the first time. despite the natural endorphins injected through my veins, there remained a constant pang nested in my chest, fluttery wings crashing up against my hollow chest, feathers wafting away.
hollow chest. broken heart.
and from the nest of dysfunction arose the hatchling red hotus angerus. and i burned. and burned deep.
for 30 years i've been dealing with kidney disease and transplantation, and now i have another disease? for 41 years i could have a couple of glasses of wine at dinner and now i can't? i can never go to a killers concert and have a few beers? i can never indulge in a wine tasting again? i can never say "skol" again?
[and i can never get near a medicine cabinet again.]
i don't give a fruit fly if you think i am feeling sorry for myself. i have now been exposed to the road to recovery and it is arduous, riddled with temptations and time consuming. it will become part of who i am if i am to survive. for i am an addict.
but simmering underneath my anger always brews sadness, and deep, deep remorse for how i have hurt myself, the persons i have hurt and one person in particular.
tonight my loneliness feels like a spiderweb you accidentally walk into. it fixates to the skin and cloaks me with its poison.
and i hate spiders.