Beginning to realize that I am the reincarnation of Pavolv's dog

So.

My back is fucked.

2 herniated discs & also some arthritis thrown in for good measure.

My Doctor asked if I played any sports to create such problems.

I gestured to my body & said,

"Obviously not."

Doc told me it was bizarre for a 22 year old to be having such heinous back problems.

She told me I am too fat.

She told me I have to quit smoking.

If I don't I won't get to a plateau but keep going downhill.

I won't get better, just have to maintain my shitty back.

Fuck.

The bitch just took away 2 of my great loves.

I was waiting for her to say

"Stay off the internet & no TV, just to be sure."

She gave me Percoset.

100 of those white, fat, beautiful little babies.

I feel it kicking in while I mourn fried food and nicotine.

My itchy nose is their swan song.

This weeks sleep total: 20 hours

I hurt my back somehow.

My Doctor thinks it's a pinched nerve. I'm getting an MRI tomorrow & am nervous about it.

Been laying around for a week now because I'm not upwardly mobile unless I hunch over. That isn't upward enough for a lot of people & they stare.

Had to get groceries the other day so I used a motor cart.

I am not obese or old enough for people to accept me cruising around in it & I feel like every employee that passes me is going to tell me to leave the store because I'm some punk ass kid abusing the privileg

e of being inside a Giant Eagle.

If I were stopped I was told to say,

"You don't know me."

Then hobble out.

I took an anti inflammatory & a sleeping pill... neit

her have worked.

Every prescription I receive doesn't work at the "suggested dose" so I "abuse" them. Still pretty bummed I'm already out of Vicodin.

While waiting for this sleeping pill to kick in I read the first chapter of

Person by Sam Pink.

Sarah Spinelli brought it to me as a 'Get Well' thing.

I am usually pretty stand offish about reading things by people I've met because if I hate it I'll have to be a convincing liar if they ever ask what I thought. Pleasantly surprised, though. I laughed a lot. He & I share the same thought process. It made me feel less stupid.

Don't know why I felt the need to post on here. Haven't updated since March... just bored & on pills sitting on a heating pad in my empty house & my cat is ignoring me.

Sam Hedrick & Joanna Donchatz (I like using peoples full names, seems more dignified) are coming over at around 2pm for lunch.

I haven't eaten yet & am really ready for consumption.

Excerpts From A Letter I Never Sent

I am going through a shift, or I want to be, anyways.
Something I've romanticized internally will reveal itself to be what it is and always was. Then I struggle to accept the truth and beat myself up for not realizing it earlier on.
I don't know how to appropriate my feelings. Constantly questioning whether it is important. Whether what I'm pining for is what I should really be pining for or if I am just an idiot.
I see things through these rose tinted glasses and only hear what I want to hear. What I want to hear is that people are inherently good but that notion, as always, subsides. People can't see past their own noses, it isn't their fault, but I desperately want to believe that I can. It's so disconcerting that I find so little worth liking in people. I try to understand or give them the benefit of the doubt but everyone has their own agenda, maybe I'm just angry that I have no say in it. I don't want to think this way about people, as though I'm not included in this generalization. I have this air about me that fuels unhealthy and destructive relationships.
Lo, I am a coward. Somewhere along the line my backbone slowly started to give way and I am a passive little shit with nothing to show for myself.
I can barely muster the courage to act on my own free will without obsessing over stepping on someone's toes.


There is this overwhelming resentment I feel every day that I don't know how to get rid of. People say that creating will be therapeutic and help relieve stress and I keep waiting for this lightness where pressure ruled. Where I won't feel habitually defeated. I should probably just find a shrink and start abusing prescription drugs, then maybe I will stop abusing recreational ones.. I am so unshakably put off by other people, myself at the front of that line.

I've been entertaining the idea of giving myself an allotment of words per day. Doing my best with what few things I may say. Everyone talks too much about meaningless shit. Silence is golden, as I've heard. I waste so much time in my head deliberating & planning out what I should or should not say. My friend Sam told me that's a sign of Schizophrenia, which made me a little nervous. Though putting a limit on my words would probably not quell that habit, only exacerbate it.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to use this as my soap box.

Love,
Samantha