For some reason, I've always felt that
Sundays have a strange aura about them.
I don't know what it is, really.
It just feels different from other days
of the week, ever since I was a kid.

Right now it's Sunday and it's raining.
A rainy Sunday morning. Nothing's changed.



All I wish is that I could go.
I'm tired of being dependent on other people
for everything I want, need.
I want to go home for the holidays.
I want to go to the grocery store.
I want to go outside and stand in the
wet, auratic Sunday light, but nuh-uh.

I'm out of food. I'm out of food.
Sometimes I sleep for 16 hours of the day.
I'm supposed to take an anti-inflammatory in 15m.
Everyday my ROM (range of motion) improves by 5 degrees.
By the end of today, 90 degrees to go before I'm "normal".

800mg of this, 200mg of that, throw in 500mg,
but don't exceed 3200mg in one day combined.
Choose wisely.
It's all about the math with this shit.

I don't think they realize how difficult
it is to not have hands.
I don't think they realize how difficult
it is to have one foot.
I don't think they realize how difficult
it is to maneuver yourself around the apartment
when there's shit everywhere.
If I can clean their crap in this condition, they can clean it, too.

My stomach is growling so maybe I'll go fix myself
some applesauce or milk.
I'm out of food, I'm out of food.
I don't want to be here anymore.

Mommy comes down tomorrow night.
I've never been so thankful.

I feel guilty that I can't go to the mailbox
to send my sister a letter for her birthday.

I'm tired of people genuinely asking me if
there is anything I need, or if they can help me.
I want to scream at most of them because they can
never give me what I need, but they are too sincere,
so I can't yell.
Most of the time, I'm just fine, thanks.

I want to get over this in 5 months and a half,
not 6 like the doctor's hope.
Not a year like the average person.
5 months and a half.
I want to improve my ROM by 10 degrees a day.
I want to cut my leg open and let the effusion
bleed out.
Body, work harder, we have shit to do.

I like how I refer to my body and "I" as a separate entity.
I've referred to the first person singular "I" approximately 43 times up to this point.
This post really has no point other than to express myself and by bitter feelings.

I really need a shower.

These medications are making me fucking p s y c h o t i c.

It hurts, but I shouldn't care.
Pain is only temporary and I have shit to do.
...After I eat my applesauce and milk.
...Then I'll sleep for 8 more hours.