Like so many people who look great, I have my secret invisible injury to keep me company day in and day out. Some days it is far away from me, and others right in my face. It is completely impossible to explain to people who have no experience with it, and sadly the very worst to deal with are one's own family.
I had a very bad few days for no apparant reason at all. I do not take time off work for these things but I do have to come home and go to bed in a very dark room alone. The people I work with and the people I work alongside never have any idea that I could have anything less than a perfect life.
Oh this looking good thing. Because of my lifestyle choices, alot of people assume I am independantly wealthy. After all, I display all the trappings of success including a workweek most people would chomp their teeth off to get. I work 30 hours a week at most over four days. At most. My clothes are beautiful and bountiful and my car is shiny and newer, and I have a ridiculous penchant for jewels, but no, I am not wealthy. Not in the material sense at least.
Bad day. bad night. Another bad day, another bad night.
What did my own family say to me?
"Don't you think you will feel alot better if you would just deal with it and get over it?"
Well, yeah that would be great. Could you send that memo to God about reversing brain injuries? I am sure He will get right on it.
So I still take these damn medications, and wonder if they do anything other than make me fatter and sleepier. I look so good. Plus-size good but good, so they tell me.
Does this mean anything at all?
Not to me.
If I won a lottery prize of any substance, I would go off my meds and take a year off somewhere to see what exactly would happen. I know I would not sleep very much, and I know I would not be able to stand having many people near me, and possibly I might have a seizure but ......
It doesnt translate to text this preoccupation of mine.
Like Pinocchico I just want to be real.
