2001-08-28 - 9:20 p.m.
Medicine always gives me a burnt throat. I will always relate illness with a burning, bitter jittering throat. I seem to be clearing the airways a lot of late. Sadness does it. It makes me ill and weak. Sickly child, I say to myself. Sick sick.
I'm on antibiotics now for the ever dissolving dissolvable stitches from my ear operation almost a year ago. Can I tell you a secret? It was entirely cosmetic. Aren't I a failure and a hypocrit now? Be happy with yourself! I preach. Where as I? I would rather crumble into dust than step outside and display myself to an ever unforgiving world. And I know we're trying to make advances with weight acceptance and various other things, but it only takes one person with one comment to tumble your world.
I keep getting cysts along where the fumbling surgeon cut a away some skin and pulled the rest back. Goodbye Dumbo! Dumbo Dumbo Dumbo. It's not what they said. It's what I thought they were saying. From the looks and the pulling out of little perfect ears with chubby children fingers.
Now. Give a big welcome to endless physical pain! Alright! He's here to give you the grand prize of hourly cleaning with salty water and acidic medicine ONLY three times a day!
Applause.
Mental pain, physical pain, mental pain, physical pain. Physical pain subsides with a painkiller. Mental pain subsides with years of therapy.
I think, I hope, I know. I made the right choice. I haven't started to regret it yet.
And now I feel vulnerable for sharing all this... click done. click done.
