love isn't something we feel, it's something we do

even divided
our connection
was multiplied
by love
infinite (i believed)
in value

when you sighed
my chest heaved
when you slept
i was riveted
by waking dreams

you, dear one,
are closer to me
than my skin

i feel your silence
echoing in the hollow
chamber where my heart
used to live

i know your heartache
and losses, the ones
past and future and
when you cry
my throat tightens
and i shed your
restrained tears

you, confused one,
are closer to me
than my skin

i know the things
you think you lost
and threw away
and the dreams
you think will never
reach fruition

when you ache
silently yet deeply
my being quivers
and i close my eyes
breathing unspoken love
to your soul

love isn't something
that we feel
it's something
that we do

you, hurt one,
are closer to me
than my own skin


epiphanies in the gym.

so, i'm working out tonight (last night now?), on the elliptical machine just doing my thing and watching monday night football, when i start to look around at all of the people surrounding me.

Monday night is the most intense night to go to the gym. everyone has restarted their promise to themselves to get in the gym and go hard. the fresh decisions made, the machines are packed, the weight room is packed, there are mad dudes playing basketball on the courts, everyone is giving it their best. by friday, there's no one there and it's easy to follow the trajectory of desire vs habit.

i see so many different kinds of people. beyond race, beyond sex, beyond physical descriptors, i see a huge variety of people. i see those who wear their discomfort with who they are on their faces. i see those who are trying so hard to have one area that they are fully in control of...damaging their bodies in order to be a master of at least some domain. i see those who are clearly happy in what they have sculpted, the ease with which they walk and smile and laugh and hit on others. and i see the truly miserable. those who feel that they are fat/ugly/not *whatever* enough/too *whatever*. they are so difficult to see.

and i realize that what i've been struggling to find is right in front of me.

you see, i've been looking for the art of being easy again.

i used to be easy. i used to be carefree. i used to be so much more able to just enjoy the journey instead of worrying about the steps along the way.

in that time, i was so comfortable in my own skin. i was not perfect...so far from it...but i was truly inspired in my life and happy for the most part. the things which were important to me...friends, live music, being able to go for walks in the park, travel, being good at what i did...i had pulled all those things close to me. i had filled my life with things and people that i enjoyed and loved. and i was able to appreciate the good in my life every day, because so rarely did the not good even enter in any longer. a huge accomplishment for someone whose early life had been full of the not good.

and then...then disease came. discomfort. struggle. the realization that my life wasn't this never-ending promise of tomorrows and that not every dream was going to come true. typing out medical directives and will & testaments. moving assets into other people's names. surgery/procedure/treatment/surgery/surgery/surgery/treatment/procedure. dis-ease.

when every day you have to think about how many you might have left, and every day you are faced with medicines which make you a different kind of sick to fight the sickness which threatens you so intensely, you become someone who loses touch with being easy.

on television and in the movies, they would have you believe that when we face life threatening illness and its treatment, and survive, that we arrive on the other side of that detour just happy to have arrived. that we lose ourselves in laughter and love and kindness and take every moment with a breezy whimsy which defies belief.

it isn't true. for a lot of us, arriving somewhere so far from our original destination...broke, physically altered, hyper aware of our mortality, reliant upon medications and doctors and tests, carrying within us the knowledge that we are now forever marked and possibly being stalked by a ravaging criminal which likes to return to the same host, having lost so much - friendships, time, the ability to reproduce, ease, a certain naivete, calcium, vitamins, youthful appearance - there is a struggle upon that arrival.

you want to be happy. just to be here. just to have arrived *somewhere*. but at the same time, you're so devastated by so much. and there is so much to reconcile now. and you go through so many phases...like adolescence all over again, almost.

imagine that you have lived your whole life inside a tire...25, 30, 50 years, and have created in that time period your ideas, your beliefs, your belongings, your friends, your knowledge base, your career...all that you hold dear, and all of these things are the air inside your tire-life. keeping it balanced and full and going.

now imagine that something horrible happens to your tire...but it isn't something which happens suddenly and it isn't something which you can fix or control. instead, it is a slow, steady leak, which you can only live in the center of as you run back and forth to every tire repair person that you can find and beg them to fix it, to save this tire because it's the only one you can have. once that air, and everything that it holds, is gone...there are no replacements.

and so, as this happening becomes a daily issue, and you watch moment by moment as the life which you have built seeps out into the ether, your life starts to fill up with all of the things which the experts are putting into the hole to try to salvage your tire. but, it isn't anything even remotely close to that which it is replacing. it is poison and last resorts and final straws, it is big words, it is debt, it is struggle, it is immeasurable and inexplainable pain, it is loneliness, it is heartache, it is despair, it is hope, it is not enough hope, it is too much hope, it is stress, it is fear...

and these things which have to go here in order to even have a fighting chance, they begin to displace some of the things which haven't been let out yet. friends, dreams, hopes, ideals, self-perception...they all begin to be moved aside so that you can deal with this crisis every day. you begin to and then continue to have to leave a little bit of the life which you have known behind in order to have a chance of the life which you hope for, until all of the little bits add up.

then suddenly, it is months or years later, and what you have struggled for is here. you survive. things settle down somewhat. and you have a chance to breathe again. and you look around, survey the landscape which you have arrived on, and realize that you have no fucking idea where you are, or even who you are, any longer.

you realize that this life that you have fought so hard to maintain isn't familiar at all any more. you realize that the people whom you thought were going to always be there have moved on. you realize that the career that you were building is actually just a noose. you realize that the body which you have come to know and rely upon and be comfortable in is a potential enemy. you realize that everything that you have saved and worked for is gone, and you are starting all over again. you realize that time is short and your pain tolerance is high, but that doesn't make any of it any easier.

mostly, you realize that you are new to the world all over again...that this suffering and fighting to get here has changed you irrevocably. and you look at those who have been still living their lives during this time period and hear them tell you of your strength and your fortune and your tenacity, and you realize that they don't get it.

you understand, fundamentally, that the healing feels as if it is going to kill you. in a very short time period, you have watched everything that you have designed and built and become be tossed out. and you get it...that the strength that it took to hold it together and tolerate the direction of those who are trying to save you was nothing compared to the strength that it is going to take to put everything back together again. to rebuild. to remaster. to replan. to reorganize.

and you wonder if you have the strength, or the courage, or even the desire, to set about on the path to 'getting there'. it took 30 years to get there before. it took courage and effort and, i believe, youth. in your youth, you are so willing to meet failure and start again, to be flexible, to learn lessons from heartache and keep going in the quest for the prize.

somehow, age changes our ability to tolerate uncertainty. it is how we all become our ancestors over and over again...how we start out so desirous of making change and end up another cog in the machine. it is how we start out liberal and dreaming and end up middle of the road and getting by.

so, when faced day by day with these dual emotions...the happiness at being here but the sheer terror at how fucked up here is, you go through all of these stages of processing everything. elation, uncertainty, fear, depression, anxiety, feeling as if it is truly impossible.

and tonight, i realized that we make it so hard for each other. we see each other through the veil of our experiences, our expectations...both reasonable and unreasonable, our desires, our over-reaching. and we see in those around us our own failures. our unhappiness. our shortcomings. and we place that perception onto them and then judge them almost as harshly as we judge ourselves.

i realized that i've been seeing the world around me and other people with this desperation and desire that i've been full of.

you see, i've been desperate to start actually living my life again. desperate to be out from under the monitoring eye of the health care practitioners, desperate to see and feel and know and do all of the things that i had ever hoped for...and quickly. before *it* comes back or any other unthinkable thing happens which ends this opportunity that i've been given to keep going. this desperation has incorporated so many desires...there are so many things that i've desired to have and do and experience.

because i don't have any other option, i've accepted that which has been taken away from me - the things that i can't do. i can't bear my own children. okay. i can't not take these medications. okay. i can't sleep through the night without hot flashes. okay. i can't go without bone scans and body scans and ultrasounds. okay. i can't ungray my hair or take the bone loss away. okay. i can't get that time back. okay. i can't undo the staggering loss or the heart wrenching realizations. okay.

and so, this has left the 'i cans'. what is there that i can do that i want to do? and there has been love...i can still love. knowledge...i can still pursue knowledge. knowledge of self. knowledge of the world around me. knowledge of others. knowledge of my place in the world. i can still try. i can still laugh. i can still dream. i can still seduce. i can still entice. i can still cook. i can still feel pleasure.

because i have felt that i am racing an unseen second hand on a giant universal clock, i have wanted everything that i can have and do NOW. i have wanted this love to be reciprocated as intensely as i can give it because 'what if?'. what if there isn't unlimited time to go patiently? i have wanted to reclaim those days when my life was made complete by books and music and not having a strict schedule because what if? what if this is my chance to be happy living for me instead of living for the idea of what i'm supposed to do and want and be? i have wanted to go everywhere and do everything and be everyone and livelivelive because what if? what if the answers are out there and not right here?

and tonight i realized that everyone is racing something. we're all struggling, not quite happy, not quite satisfied, not quite *whatever*. we're all trying to get as much in as possible. we're all trying to find our own happiness. we're all using our own coping mechanisms...even though they may not make sense to others. we're all coping...using sex or drugs or exercise or food or whatever it is to fill the voids that life is creating every day.

and being easy can be easy again. i just need to understand that 'being easy' has to be about me. i can't include everyone else in my expectations or my desires or my limits.

everyone needs room to be who they are. everyone needs clearance to find comfort in the things which give it to them. everyone needs love without expectation. everyone needs all of the things which i have found that i need. i'm not special...my sickness, my struggle, my setbacks, my suffering...none of these things make me any more special than anyone else, or any more deserving of my desires.

i need soft eyes and to reclaim what i knew for all those years...that being alone in the world doesn't limit me. that i can do and be and see anything i want to at any time, and that being alone means i don't need permission or to feel bad for following my heart's desires.

in order to survive, i had to surrender control for the first time in my life. i had to be told all of the time...what to eat, what to drink, what to indulge in, what to smoke, what medicines to take and when, when to get treatment, when to rest, when to cry, what doctors to see, what to hope for, what to expect, when not to get my expectations up, when not to push, when not to hold back, when to get undressed, when to let strangers touch me.

giving up control seemed like the most difficult thing that i would ever face. but i am learning that it is getting it back which is the challenge. learning that it is okay to set my own boundaries and my own guidelines again. learning that it wasn't my fault that i got sick. i've been scared to take control back...letting myself float out there in the world and hoping that someone would see me here, floundering and low on strength and terrified, and step in and take control. that someone would step up beside me and promise to be here with me and hold my hand to keep me steady and help me find my place in the world again.

but there isn't any ease in life like that. and you can't be easy when there's no ease. ease comes when we're being true to who and what we are, even when we aren't our best. for the first time in a very long time, i can see the path to ease again...which means that i'm once again on my own path. and i know that detours will happen, but if i can have patience with myself and the world around me, i can find my way back to where i need to be.


going Raw | words | 

• so, i've decided today to go Raw for a while...the Raw Foods diet. i'd like to say that i've decided to totally commit to it 100% and live that way, but i don't know how life would be without some of the foods that i love, so i've decided to make a slow transition in the food items that i keep in the house and go more or less hard core depending on how i feel/do with it. it's a drastic change from my diet now, in that i love to cook and there are tons of things that i use outside of the Raw lifestyle (pork chops, bacon, steak...). i'm going to start a cleanse and i think that i'll feel spectacular eating this way and eventually get to a totalitarian approach, but we shall see. i don't want to make a promise to myself that i break, because i do that enough. and as i said before, it's the secret vows we keep, the ones spoken aloud are the ones that we break. wish me luck.

• my roomie's cat chewed through my power cord for my MacBook and i had to buy a new one today. it was $90 all in and that pissed me off. annoying.  is the money making God though. the store in Pasadena was packed.

• someone wrote a testimonial for me & he said this : "Where beauty is more than skin deep, and courage stretches beyond risque exhibition, and affection becomes more than an affinity for loveliness embraced - You are there, fantastic woman. Hold your head high in the realization of your wonderment. You are Beautiful in all ways." ... & i think that those are beautiful words to be said about me and i am smiling. so nice. :)

• I am strong. And life is getting better. one day at a time. patience strength resolve tolerance flexibility adaptability perseverance desire. these are all the things that i strive to keep in the forefront of my mental toolbox as life continually throws curve balls and skews results. i try. hard. to maintain. I finally feel that i'm doing a good job again.


i have a feeling that you aren't made of iron but you seem to be as forceful like iron.

That day you used a piece of red cloth to blindfold my eyes and cover up the sky You asked me what I had seen I said I saw happiness

This feeling really made me comfortable made me forget I had no place to live You asked where I wanted to go I said I want to walk your road

I couldn't see you, and I couldn't see the road You grabbed both me hands and wouldn't let go You asked what I was thinking I said I want to let you be my master

I have a feeling that you aren't made of iron but you seem to be as forceful as iron I felt that you had blood on your body because your hands were so warm

This feeling really made me comfortable made me forget I had no place to live You asked where I wanted to go I said I want to walk your road

I had a feeling this wasn't a wilderness though I couldn't see it was already dry and cracked I felt that I wanted to drink some water but you used a kiss to block off my mouth

I don't want to leave and I don't want to cry Because my body is already withered and dry I want to always accompany you this way Because I know your suffering best

That day you used a piece of red cloth to blindfold my eyes and cover up the sky You asked me what I could see I said I could see happiness

© Cui Jian


time moves on. it stops who you are. i was wrong. there is no. this is no. modern romance.

i still wish music could adopt me. :/

it's been a shitty weekend in sports. the steelers = meh. the cowboys = meh. the colts losing = incomprehensible, especially after those 21 unanswered points and that drive down the field with less than five minutes left. and that shitty call??? wtf was that??? ugh.

monday night football better do me right tonight, 'cuz there's some ground to catch up.


all i want is sleep and salt...because i can't have anything else that i want.


A warrior dies the hard way. His death must struggle to take him. A warrior does not give himself to death so easily.

*gas face*,

so i was feeling weird saturday morning. i hadn't slept for a while...the insomnia is backbackback, so i thought that could have something to do with it. i'm stressed...that could as well.

but i'm just feeling mad weird. meh. scheduled to go deal some cards in the evening...just trying to get through the day.

and then Bam...it's more than weird. it's bad. pain. meh.

so, after too much time spent dealing with more doctors...the fibro is flaring up. :/ the insomnia was a precursor. tonight, i've had a migraine from hell and my entire body feels like pins & needles, with numbness too. nothing is helping. meh.

i called everyone i know who could possibly come smoke me out but it's the weekend and everyone is out. ended up talking to my friend in seattle b/c even though he's out and drinking, he will try to say supportive things to me when i'm hurting.

and sometimes, when the pain goes from moderate to geezus.fucking.christmas...i feel like being a warrior, dying the hard way, not being able to be taken out...it's some bullshit. b/c it would be soooooo much easier to not hurt sometimes. like i could deal with regular life shit with even just a portion of the medical bullshit that i deal with behind what that disease did to me. but everyfuckingday is a question. waiting to see how my body handles the stressors and hormones and new patch and bloodwork being askew.

and frankly, i don't give a fuck about anything right now except for this thundering pain in my head that won't reside, and the fact that i haven't slept since waking up on thursday morning, or how cold my fingers are and how my shoulders feel like they're pulling in towards the middle of my back and then being rammed into my neck and skull.

nerve damage and fibromyalgia can eat.a.dick.



you can make a promise it will kill you to break and find what is real and what isn't.

i failed.
i'm giving up
my love for him.
lost, i am lost.

and now it is him
who is lost to me
maybe it is both of us
who are lost.

nothing is ever
as perfect as you want it to be.

in my quite ordinary life
is this extraordinary pain
that mixes with the mundane
my loss feels huge
and yet can't be explaiined.

maybe you are afraid
that if you found the perfect love
it would chew you up
and spit you out
separate your armor from nerves

i lost my love for him
but it is me who is lost.
nothing is ever the way
i want it to be.

i was afraid too.
i tried not to hurt
but everything became a wound
open and seeping
i tried to salvage things
which can't be salvaged
i tried...
maybe foolish, maybe clumsy
to rescue what simply
cannot be rescued.

i failed.
and now he is elsewhere
and both my night
and his night
are drained.

it would be perfect
if love could be found
brought home again
but nothing is ever as perfect
as i want it to be.

life is hard, even when it's easy. when you are alone, you must do anything to believe. when you're abandoned, you have to speak with everything you know and everything you are in order to belong. if you finally have no one to turn to, you have to claim your aloneness. and when all the things you love pass away, and the great family of things and people that you've made around you see you go, you can feel them living on in you.

when one thing dies, everything has to die together and then live on in a different way without it. when one thing is missing, everything is missing and has to be found together in a new whole. and everything wants to be complete. everything wants to go home.

life is like a slow river...it turns suddenly and there you are, at the edge of the water, with everything else. the fire carrying the feast and laughter into the darkness. away from the fire are the unspoken griefs that still make togetherness. but then, just as suddenly...it's a fireless, friendless night again. and you're alone. and you have to speak to the stars, or the clouds, or anything at hand to find your place.

these are the things that i have to tell myself. rather than ask myself...why do i prefer that face to another? why do i weep?

you carry around with you all of these emotions, attached to people and events and memories. things shared. words spoken.

and they feel so heavy sometimes...the weight of the responsibility that you feel to the people that you have pulled close to you for this journey. the knowledge given to you that some who test you the most are those whom you have known in other lives and that it is your job to be with them in whatever way in this life now.

you let your love mean that you extend the olive branch multiple times. you let your heart decide things that your brain is telling you completely different actions for...all in the hopes that you are getting it right. or something close to right.

and there are loves that you feel that you think can never be altered. friendships that you feel are for always.

and then, you feel something which means that you can't pretend any longer...that you can't trump the head for the heart anymore.i just don't know how to make my heart be still, to not pump this love through me.

what i do know is that i've been struggling with figuring out how to just let go of whatever feelings are attached to the feeling of love that i have for them and just release them from my life, without being bitter or undoing the positive that was there. and i've been finding it incredibly hard.

tell myself over and over again that things don't have to end badly, they can just end. you decide...those who don't feel this love pulling them like a river, those who don't want to change, let them sleep. this love...it's beyond search and study and knowing more, beyond trickery and hypocrisy, and so if they want to improve their mind that way, you let them sleep on.

but it is hard to believe these things which my mind repeats. hard to still the heart and brain and longing.

i've given up on my brain. torn the fabric of that knowing to shreds. thrown it away. no longer wrapped up in the beautiful robe of words, i'm completely naked.

All the true vows
are secret vows
the ones we speak out loud
are the ones we break.

There is only one life
you can call your own
and a thousand others
you can call by any name you want.

Hold to the truth you make
every day with your own body,
don't turn your face away.

Hold to your own truth
at the center of the image
you were born with.

Those who do not understand
their destiny will never understand
the friends they have made
nor the work they have chosen

nor the one life that waits
beyond all the others.

By the lake in the wood
in the shadows
you can
whisper that truth
to the quiet reflection
you see in the water.

Whatever you hear from
the water, remember,

it wants you to carry
the sound of its truth on your lips.

in this place
no one can hear you

and out of the silence
you can make a promise
it will kill you to break,

that way you'll find
what is real and what is not.

I know what I am saying.
Time almost forsook me
and I looked again.

Seeing my reflection
I broke a promise
and spoke
for the first time
after all these years

in my own voice,

before it was too late
to turn my face again.


When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing,
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and
the sweet confinement of your
aloneness to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.


This morning on the desk,
facing up,
a poem of Kavenagh's
celebrating a lost love.

"She was the sun," he said,
lives in the fibre
of his arms,
her warmth
through all the years
folding the old man's hand
in hers
of a Sunday
Dublin morning.

Sometimes reading
Kavenagh I look out
at everything
growing so wild
and faithfully beneath
the sky
and wonder
why we are the one
part of creation
to refuse our flowing.

I know
in the text of the heart
the flower is our death
and the first opening
of the new life
we have yet to imagine,

but Kavenagh's line
reminds me
how I want to know
that sun,
and how I want to flower
and how I want to claim
my happiness
and how I want to walk
through life
amazed and inarticulate
with thanks.

And how I want to
know that warmth
love itself,
through the sun itself.

I want to know
that sun
of happiness
when I wake
and see through
my window
the morning color
on the far mountain.

I want to know
when I lean down to the lilies
by the water
and feel their small and
perfect reflection
on my face.

I want to know
that gift
when I walk
innocent through the trees
burning with life
and the green
of the pasture's
first growth,

and I want to know
as lazily
as the cows
that tear at the grass
with their
soft mouths.

I want to know
what I am
and what I am
involved with by loving
this world
as I do.

And I want time
to think of all
the unlived lives:

those that fail to notice
until it is too late,

those with eyes staring
with bitterness,

and those
met on the deathbed
whose mouths are wide
unspoken love.

Every year
they keep me faithful
and help me
realize there is more
to lose
than I thought
and more at stake
than I could dream.




my life has been a circle surrounding vastness for so long now.

i have these points that i continually re-visit, a neverending track of getting back to where i have been countless times before, with the scenery in between changing only minutely. i'm so tired of it, bored with it, frustrated and hurt by it, but i don't really know what to do to jump-start something new/different.

i am working towards giving up desire...i feel like my desire for certain things and people is what is restraining me. the desire for him to want me. the desire to not have to think about hormones and the desire just to get 'there'. the desire to be balanced again. the desire to be willing to give someone who wants me a chance rather than holding out for someone who doesn't. the desire to not feel guilty about not being enough for so much and so many, no matter how good i am.

my days are endless blurs of the same scenes, the same conversations, the same arguments, the same doctors, medicines, pharmacies, phone calls, paperwork. neverending frustration that never goes away. and increasingly, hostility.

i am learning that when you love someone who doesn't love you back, and you stay in the situation expecting so much but accepting so little, choosing to have only a part of them in lieu of none of them, you become hostile. you become hostile at the situation, the secrets, the others, your own desire, and eventually at them. there's this always present loathing of yourself for even trying when you know already that nothing you do matters...you are simply not enough. there's this constant knowing that the day is going to come when you're dropped for the one who is good enough, which is going to be devastating when you have put in so much time & energy into this interaction. there's this pain that taints every soft/kind word, the unspoken "but ________" at the end which keeps you from enjoying them. and so, after so long of this, this undercurrent of hostility weaves itself into the fabric of your affection, and suddenly *you* are the major person that you're hostile with...and you're hostile when you care, hostile when you love, hostile when you reach out, hostile when you try, hostile when all of this goodness that you are is given to someone who is indifferent to the depth of your love.

there is only one thing worse than being mad at someone who is indifferent to your anger, and it's wanting someone who is indifferent to your desire.

lately, i'm so hostile. easily offended. easily angered. easily hurt. and all of these things lead to - hostility. aggression. the desire to learn the fine art of not giving a fuck. and i'm exhausted. from trying to accept something that hurts me. from trying to cope with the change in hormones, the trying to cope with pain and still live a fun life. i'm so fucking sick of this shit. of being tired, angry, sick, worried about being sick, hormonal, angsty, in love. i'm so over it. i hate being hostile. i hate feeling like this. :/


i am one of the dumbest people that i know.

i missed 8 doses of hormone medicine. i put myself in a place to be damaged and then act as if anyone else should care that it's happening.

i can't believe that i did that to myself, again. i have maybe 3 doses before things start spiraling out of control suddenly & out of nowhere. if i don't take care of me, there is no one else who will step up and attempt to do so. i know this and yet i continue to not take care of myself even in the ways that are the most important.

i missed days of hormone medicine. i didn't take my contacts out since wednesday. i got myself all worked up over something that is never going to be any different. again.

i get myself to a place of stability only to let myself come unhinged again.

irresponsible...longing for the days of carefree life that wasn't dictated by hormone replacement therapy and menopause, i try to live life like a normal 30 year old woman when i'm anything but. i'm not normal. i'm never going to be 'normal' again. gone are the days when i can be out and about without worrying about dosages of medication to keep me hormonally balanced, gone are the days when life had simplicity and ease.

i'm so tired of the compromises that i have had to make simply to stay alive. simply to still be here, i have had to turn my life over to the medical gods, to prescriptions and medications which alter me and injections and tests to make sure that the beast isn't back.

it isn't fair. i simply want to stand outside in the darkness and raise up my fists to the sky and scream at the gods. it isn't fair. it wasn't supposed to be like this. all of this hardship just to be. all of this up & down & all around simply to know that although i remain here, i don't relate here.

it's exhausting to have to reconcile who and what you are with who and what you want to be all of the fucking time.
it's more than too much to have to know that there isn't anyone who understands truly in your sphere.
it's more than i can tolerate...all of the effort that it takes to be me now and all of the effort that it takes not to let the effort show. and the moments when the effort is uncontainable, and i crash & burn.

i'm so exhausted by simply living the life that disease and hrt have left me with...always tired and yet never sleeping well. even in my dreams, doctors and cancer haunts me, even in my dreams i undergo medical procedures and talks of medicine and hormones.

i feel better and then go out and live my life and miss my meds and come crashing back down.

it isn't fair it isn't fair it isn't fair.

i'm so fucking over my life as it is.

and i wonder...is this as good as it gets?