leopardofbast

I want to stop breathing. Every breath I take brings me more pain, so if I stop breathing everything will be better, right? Haven't gotten that part mastered yet, though.

Got the physical issue worked out, but I lost my job for being sick for too long. Lovely of them to do that for me.

Mom is dying. There's no other way to put it. The cancer and her idiot surgeons have killed off her liver and her body is simultaneously eating itself and filling itself with the waste and other materials that should be filtered out by the liver but aren't (as it's pretty much dead now).

She's always in pain. She can't eat much, and you can see in her upper body (where she's not full of bile, waste, abscesses, and the like) that she is skin and bones.

She is almost entirely gone mentally, and I wonder if her body has turned to eating itself (the human body will turn the brain and other tissues into food/energy if the need is great enough).

She's seeing shit that isn't there (not the normal "shit that isn't there" because we're natural witches and commune with ghosts and spirits) and it's terrifying her (doesn't make me feel too cozy either, to tell the truth). She has to be watched 24/7 because she gets confused and lost and does weird things that don't make any sense and sometimes endanger her. After the stunt she pulled tonight, we have to put her in a nursing home.

We don't have anyone to watch her constantly, and apparently the hospice people can't be bothered to leave one of their people overnight with my mother. I guess she's not high on their "to do" list. They just want to sit back and watch her die. Easier for them, I suppose, than for the rest of us.

I hate it. I hate that she's suffering. I hate that she's so miserable and confused (she comes through sometimes, she has really lucid and normal moments. I think that's the worst part).

Selfish as it may be, I also hate that I've spent most of my life taking care of her and no one else seems to know how. It's like they never paid attention and couldn't pick up on the most basic things. When she's confused and seeing shit that isn't there, I just work with the story she's made up instead of yelling at her and getting mad. It's not her fault. (Yes, mom, the police found those kids who were on your roof throwing shovels, and they've gotten them all home safely. No, no one's going to hurt them. Let's go inside, now, ok?)

Dad and grandpa get mad at her. They argue with her. I don't know what they're thinking, it won't help her to be upset with her. I get that they're frustrated, but so am I and I'm not taking it out on her...

I'm so tired of being the thing that holds everyone together. My family, sometimes my friends, etc. I'm tired of compromising myself (my health, my energy, my mind) to make others feel comfortable or happy. I'm tired of letting myself get stepped on. I'm tired of being the strong one who has to hold it all together.

I'm tired. I want to sleep and not wake up.

Good/bad news: the docs think they finally know what's wrong with me. I have to have surgery to diagnose it.

If they're right, I have to hurry up and have kids in the next 2-4 years or I could become sterile. The surgery will help for now, but it will get worse and I'll eventually lose the option to have children (or to keep all of my internal organs. I suppose that part's important, too).

The other half isn't even sure he wants kids, let alone so soon. He says he does, but every time I see him with little ones I see the uncertainty.

Fuck...

Ah, but this isn't bad enough. Mom's docs finally decided there's nothing else they can do for her. She's refusing to seek a second opinion. She's just going to let the cancer take her at its own pace. She wasn't going to tell me or my sister, but I called and got it out of her. The sister moved but is coming in for a visit next week. She needs to know.

Fuck...

I still have my car (*knocks vigorously on the wooden computer desk*). The other half still has his job. I still feel like I'm drowning and it's too much effort to care. Too much effort to pull myself up and out of the water, because another wave will probably just crash over me again and take me under...

Fuck...

Life goes from bad to worse.

Death surrounds, but stays just out of reach,

Taking instead those who do not want his

Warm, comforting embrace.

Teasing, antagonizing, torturing

Those who never asked, but slowly

So slowly become drawn into his grip.

Agony, this...

To watch the slow progression of it all

Play across the soul and body of one

Known so well.


Meanwhile, life continues to be a miserable harlot;

Good going to the highest bidder.

And to the rest

Offering insults, injury, injustice.

Imbecile "professionals:"

'You have this, wait no, it's this.

Perhaps it's something else altogether!

Yes! No! I give up and surely

You'll just heal, won't you?'


Cracker-jack white coats

Drooling at the sight of the

Ever green paper.

Blind to truth or even honest work.

Deaf to concerns, hearing only

The static-emptiness in their own skulls.

Return to your cave, thou feeble-minded fowl,

Your services are not needed by the living

Go play with your dead.


When finally an answer seems to prevail

A MIRACLE, they proclaim!

Surely it is luck, not the skill of

The few real physicians remaining

What illuminated the cause.

It cannot be your fault,

For surely you did everything you could

Whilst doing nothing at all.


Continue your ignorant deaf whistling,

There are plenty who will have no choice

And be content with such treatment by a blind soul.

Sell your potions, your tinctures, your lies:

I shall buy no longer.


So many of your ilk, in so small an area

So lucky to have such luxurious protections

From those higher up than the poor common folk.

Enjoy your comfort. Enjoy this life.

All you do comes back to you.

Forget, and smile while you have your happiness.

It could be so easily ripped away

As my life is proof.

Eat of your bounty while you have it,

And don't complain when it's gone and

None will share with one who has outlived his worth.

Fear not the new man in white

Ignoring your ails, or those of your precious ones

They know what they're doing, just as you do...

Don't they?

Universe hates me

Livejournal is my dirty little secret. None of my friends know I have this, and that's precisely WHY I have it. It is my small slice of (in)sanity, able to be had away from people I know and love.

If a stranger happens by and reads, it doesn't matter. it's almost completely impersonal, and if they think less of me, so be it. I'll never see his/her face. They'll never know mine. They will know what goes on inside more completely than my own family, but it's better that way, I think.

So, what do I share exclusively on Livejournal? Myself, whole, unedited for content. My inner demons and pain.

it hurts to feel like I don't matter to him unless I can fuck him every night.

it hurts that he'll happily and blatantly talk about picking up other women to fuck because I can't.

it hurts that he rubs it in all the time. that every time something goes wrong, it feels like it's my fault.

I hate that I can't be enough for him. That I'm ruining his life. That I feel he'd be better off without me.

I can't think of anything I can do to fix it. I'm broken. I'm ill. I'm useless.

Fuck.

Not really sure how this is a valid question. I mean, how would you regulate that? Not all countries work together, this is clear enough to anyone who pays the minutest amount of attention to foreign affairs (no matter what country you're from).

Do I think it SHOULD be required? It can post all the warnings you want, that's not really going to stop kids from getting to the site. How often do porn sites, for example, have a "restriction" for people 18 and up only, yet kids get into them all the time.

That being said, I do agree with an earlier post, that I'd like to be notified if I'm doing a search for, say, sandwich recipes, that some of the results may come back with things that I wouldn't want to eat for lunch...

No, it wouldn't "place a chill" on expression. People will always find a way around these things, and other people will keep doing what they do regardless of its legality...

Amazing how I don't even care what I'm looking at anymore. 6 Facebook Apps, and I honestly don't give a shit about them, but it's so much easier to stare at pixels dancing across the screen than to crawl into bed next to him, have him press up against me, and have to tell him "no" again.

Can't reach out for anything, except maybe for someone to feed my chickens on a game. How fucking stupid.

How fucked up is this world, that I can be connected to so many yet disconnected from everyone? The other half is the only one with so much as a peek into my fucked up mind, but even he doesn't know.

So many people know me, so many people always surrounding me, but none of them actually know ME.

I laugh, I smile, I pretend I'm ok. If I killed myself tomorrow, they'd all be shocked. I wouldn't do that, I have too much shit to do, but I want to.

I want to stop suffering. I want to stop being a burden on the only person who matters anymore. I don't want to be stuck with crushing debt because I have lazy incompetent doctors.

I want the depression to stop, but it's worse. I dared try antidepressants again, then had to stop because of whatever this sickness is, docs are worried it'll make it worse. Not to worry about my mental health, surely I can handle that on my own, right?

No worries about the growing number of scars, of the powerful desire to just slice across my throat just to watch the blood wash down my body. No big deal that I can barely function anymore. That's no more important than a pesky diagnosis. Why can't I just keep going back every week and pay them for doing nothing? Surely I'm made of money, right?

Yes, and of course my employer intends to pay me for being out sick this long. Uh-huh. No money worries on top of those other non-concerns.

And I can't talk about any of it with anyone. Mom is dying, don't want to bother the hoarding cancer patient. Sister is in her own world, probably wouldn't understand anyway. Friends? I have never trusted the idea. Too many times I've been fucked over by people who are "friends." This batch seems to mean well, but even then, do I want to damage them with my insanity? Do I really need to burden any other human with something they can't fix?

The boyfriend-fiance-whatever-the-fuck-we-are, is absorbed in video games, and when he's not, he wants to fuck, and can't understand that there's a reason I've been trapped under this fucking roof for a month and a half, I'm not playing hookey or whatever, I'm fucking sick, and no, I can't fuck right now.

Takes it personally, acts like a hurt child, doesn't want to hear my explanation that Yes, I really AM SICK, NO, it's NOTHING he's done wrong, he's still the most attractive human being in existence as far as I'm concerned, I'm just fucking broken.

He doesn't believe me. When have I ever lied to him? But he doesn't believe me.

Again, who the hell do you talk to about this shit? My family? No because they like any excuse to blame him for something. He's too perfect, so there must be something wrong. I could not have possibly found a good guy for once in my life. No, I'm too fucking stupid and blind for that, right?

His family? No, they don't want to hear about any of this. They're like a perfect tv family, they haven't been touched by evil or taint, and wouldn't know what to do if they were. They're delightful, really, but no good to turn to for this.

Again, friends are out. Who wants to hear about my broken sex life? Hmm? You want to hear about how I usually end up in tears afterword because I had to ask him to just hurry up and finish because it hurts too much? How I have to turn him away night after night, to look at his hurt face, trying to make my body respond, but nothing happens other than pain and discomfort?

Yeah, that's going to be a fun topic. Everyone join in, it'll be just like Apples to Apples, a fun game for everyone...

My doc is a conservative christian. The few times I've breached the subject, he's shied away and changed the subject. It doesn't matter that I'm monogamous, or that my sex life - beyond making sure I'm physically healthy - is none of his business and not to be judged, or whatever, he apparently doesn't think it's a big deal. Maybe because I haven't broken down in tears in his office yet?

last 3 Gynos I've been to don't give a shit either. IS this a symptom of being in the south, or of being in America??? Which is it, because if I have to move, I'll goddamn figure out a way. I'm at my wits end, I want to die because I CANNOT LIVE. This is not a life. I breathe, but I barely function.

Someone shut off the life support, I can't take it anymore.

the only one I can turn to, hence my profile picture. the only one who doesn't ask questions or become accusatory, the only relief, even if temporary.

I want to cut, to bleed, to drip and watch the pain come out. even for a moment. Just to be free and to focus on something I understand.

It almost scares me. Lately I see me cutting across my throat and leaving a second, gaping red mouth. I'd never do it, but I almost want to. almost.

No, just the small nicks. just enough to hurt a few days, maybe scar up, maybe not. Just enough to tide me over until I need another dose of the only medicine I've found that works.