To Whom It May Concern:
It's come to my attention that I am unbearably, and undeniably, unhappy. There have been few things lately that make me feel as though I have something to be proud of myself for. After spending so much time wondering what things would be like if I'd ever come out of so many terrifying Crohn's flare moments, it's almost gotten old for me to try for it. Pieces of me sort of don't even care anymore. Small things that made me so happy seem so difficult to do. Objects are heavy. My body doesn't work like it used to. People are at such faster paces than I am. I don't speak when I'd like to. I resent anyone and everyone for what their abilities are that mine don't- and won't- hold a candle to. I think that I've actually started to hate things.
I'm writing about this because I should. Because when you're this down, but you still have hundreds of reasons to be happy, you should let your feelings out in words that will prove to benefit you when you decide to read them back to yourself. To say to that sad, weak you, 'So you started over and it was a hell of a lot harder than you thought it was going to be. What are you crying about? You're alive'. I've learned a great deal about myself by exercising this method of therapy. Though I still harbor ill feelings about a lot of people, things, and situations -most of which, do not deserve my shitty judgement.
I know how hard building my life is going to be. I get small tastes of it everyday. There really is no greater struggle than a struggle within yourself. I'm incredibly angry about what's happened to me. I want to find someone to blame. I want to blame everyone. I'm finally ready for my body to start feeling better, but I forgot how much it used to do. I can't even ride a bike yet. It will take me, I don't know how long, to even get up a hill. I guess I know one thing- after all the peddling I'm about to do, the breeze at the top better feel fucking amazing.
Rant over.
Will someone come over with cookies now?
