Today was particularly bad. Stomach sick like the flu I’ve had for three weeks. A little different though. Bear thinks it’s all stress and anxiety and he might be right. Dr T said I had the stomach flu when I went in three weeks ago, and I know viruses nowadays are some crazy shit but I have never been sick for this long. Today Bear practically had to carry me out of work and drive me home.
So that’s my question tonight: am I sick sick? Or is my head just sick? I know I’ve got some problems upstairs, that’s old news. But either way it’s causing disruptions in my life, which is not ok. Sounds like I’ll be seeing the doc again next week. In the meantime, ive never been more frustrated, which I’m sure isn’t helping if the Reds are my problem.
Either my brain or my body is a total asshole. Or maybe they’re conspiring against me, which doesn’t only make them assholes, it makes them stupid. Do they not realize that it’s pretty much a “you go, we go” situation? You’d think they would be on my side. Maybe they’re just rebelling. You know, to teach me a lesson like. My eating habits are terrible, always have been, so my body’s all like “go ahead, make my day.” And I’ve recently started a blog dedicated to calling my brain “Jess’s Mess.” And my brain meats are all like “thanks for the name calling, bitch.” So one day the body and mind met up in a dark alley somewhere, probably the one where Freddy Krueger hides, just waiting for me to fall asleep. Like they paid him off to get lost for a while. And now they’ve decided to go to the mattresses with me. (That’s not a sex reference people; watch The Godfather for hell’s sake).
Herein lies the dilemma. Do I agree to meet them and offer to make peace? Or do I stand my ground and say “listen you fuckers, if I want to eat marshmallows for dinner and then act like an insane person after, that’s my prerogative. It’s called freedom, bitch.” I’m afraid if i do they’ll soon be sending Josh a special delivery of a bullet proof vest with a dead fish in it. And then Josh will be all: “it’s a siscillan message, it means Luca Brazi sleeps with the fishes.” Only they’d have to put the fish in a cute pair of my boots or something, otherwise Bear would just be like “the fuck?” And not even know I was dead.
Anyway, I have no witty remarks to end this post with. Thanks for reading. The scribbling really is helpful. Or maybe it’s just rambling. Yeah. That sounds more like me.