I toss out the bottle of pills as I cursed my doctor. None of them can help me and I am sick. I am sick of being embroiled in an unceasing war. The war within my levels of self and the unbending world around me. If they would but only give me a degree, some of this sickness would be relieved. When they see me weak they double down mercilessly. So I pretend I am strong just to carry on. But I feel it, in a step or two, I am through.
Monday, August 27, 2012
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