I don't remember
I don’t remember the last time I felt well. I have no recollection of what it’s like not to be in pain. I have no idea what it’s like not to be on a cocktail of medication just to function at the most basic level. I don’t remember what its like not to cry myself to sleep. The twitches and the spasms and the deep and dull aches are all I know.
I should be planning my wedding. I should be raising a child. I should be living my dreams. I should be doing anything but writing about Lyme disease. A disease that if it was caught soon enough would have been highly treatable. But it wasn’t and here I am.
No one understands how sick I really am or that my skin feels like it’s on fire. That often I fight fiercely whilst sometimes also wishing I would die in my sleep. That’s truth.
Being ill is so lonely and frustrating. It takes all of my energy to fake being well. It takes everything in me not to give up. People tell me to pray. What good would that do. If God exists he’s the same merciless bastard that lets babies get blown up by bombs. If anything he should be begging for our forgiveness. I don’t want your God. I want funding for a cure. I want to live to see thousands of sunsets.
I just want to live.