I AM a pedestrian crossing, and I DO have the right of way. If you go while I’m crossing with my bike, not only am I leaving a dent in your car, I’m suing you like there’s no tomorrow.
I’m not a person who hates my outsides. I could care less about my physical appearance. I’m pretty in my own mind, in my family’s mind, and in my friends’/boyfriend’s mind, so my outward appearance doesn’t matter.
But guys, I really, really cannot stand my insides. I get absolutely sick of digestion problems, of gas pains that cause mock heart-attack pain, of endometriosis and its Hell. I get sick of being orthostatic and of walking on legs that ache. I get tired of moving wrong and being sent into a world of pain. I get tired of randomly becoming depressed and crying for every pain, every ache, every evil happening to every person in this world.
And now, we think these weird spells I’ve been having since I was like fifteen are probably seizures. These partial seizures that make me feel like I am insane. I’m just ready to get diagnosed so I can fix it now.
FUCK you body. I’m eighteen. Please. Give me a break.
Food makes me feel better. Cooking, and eating sweets make my day so much more bearable. So if my outward appearance changes, if I gain weight or anything like that, so be it. Because I’ll be happy inside and out. I’m struggling. I’m struggling but I have people and a God who loves me. And that (plus muffins) makes this all okay.
Tonight, my dear, we were glowing. Glowing with happiness for the future. For a life together. And somehow, in the midst of it all, we managed to grow closer. Somehow we managed to love each other deeper than the immeasurable amount we already did. Pure joy. At the thought of the future. And the existence of the here and now. I love you. I love you more than a chalkboard loves the thin, white lines traced upon it. Jamie. My own.
