B E B E R E

I hate the pain.

I hate how it makes me alternately angry or weepy. I hate how it tires me out on good days but almost blinds me on bad days. I hate the effects the painkillers have on me when I hurt badly enough to have to take them - from hurting my stomach to rendering me almost incoherent. I hate feeling thirty years older than I am because I'm worn out from schlepping my corpse around all day. I hate being woken up by small lightning bolts during the night because I've turned the wrong way in bed. I hate feeling so petty, snippy, bitchy, miserable because I can't dissociate anymore. At least when I separated my spirit from my body, I could be more functional. I could muster a less fake-looking smile. I could keep up the appearance of living.