Now again, how do I explain to my future self this hell like month, especially week?How do I explain the apathy that fed up my soul to the point I felt like an empty shell of what used to be a once restless child?
To begin right, I started throwing up almost every day, nearly a month ago. First, there was just some days. Wednesday,thursday or friday. Days when my dear proffesor of accounting was having his hours of torturing us, from threathening us to giving us poor grades, but that's another chapter. Stressful days let's say. A pharmacist recommended my mother to take me to a psychologist, and I say my reaction to this was actually worth paying a visit to one. The very next day I went to my GP, hoping she would tell me to go to a hospital. Instead, after listening to my story, and my intensive way of telling my right side of the body is hurting like hell, she decided that my mental health is to blame. I drove me crazy.Why can't people, for once,see that I'm not well?Why doesn't anyone believe me that I'm sick and I can't just hope that the pain will go away? After that,she gave me a bag full of pills,and told me to go to a hospital if the pain doesn't dissapear. "I won't be coming back here, that's for sure", and I went home.The whole week I was literally eating pills. At least six pills a day.I couldn't keep up with the world. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, to reply to anything or do any homework. I could only lie in bed as a lifeless vegetable full of pills that I was.
Then friday came. One of the worst day to exist. I felt like I was on another planet,my head just spinning and concentration gone, and my right side of the body hurted so much that I could barely stand on a chain. That day I decided that I couldn't just stay like this and go to a hospital. You know when you are tired of every day repeating over and over again? Imagine throwing up everyday to this equation. And expect to feel better. At the hospital,nothing much. After being touched by five different doctors, with the same questions over and over again, they left the space were the conclusion and the key to this mystery blank. What was wrong with me? Nothing. Intestines and insides perfectly normal. Finally, they gave me some pain killers. I was just too torned up to think about something and we just left. After almost fighting with my brother for not telling him earlier that I was not well, but I guess he saw that I wasn't in the perfect mind state. I was just numb to everything.
As expected, we stayed some time at the hospital, I had two things on my mind.You might think I'm exaggerating, and that there wasn't anything wrong with me, but you can't convince the patient that he's well when he's hurting. Even more when nobody knows what's wrong with him. I thought about my seven angels and the people who want to see me down.
My seven angels released a new album on the day I went to the hospital, and I didn't want to listen to it, because my shitty mood would ruin it. I felt bad,in my heart, that I couldn't help them by streaming it, that I didn't do anything to help them.I also know,deep down, that they would also want for me to be better and then focus on them, but I couldn't help but think about them.I listened to it after I've returned from the hospital,and it made me feel a little better. They had beautiful songs, written by themselves that reminded me that "life goes on". Even without some souls, life goes on. Even this illness, it'll go away. It also consisted of a miraculous melody, that I dedicate to people who .... always stay.
People who are trying to bring me down. I don't know if I ever wrote this quote in this book, but my midn has been ruled by it since then "if people are trying to bring you down, that only means you are above them". I've forgiven everyone. I've left anyone. Why on earth would I be thinking about them? Because they're my motivation. There are people out there holding their breath, waiting to see me fall. I want them to choke . I don't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me down. Althought I didn't have one particular person in mind, I referred to them as a whole. They know themselves. Everyone who could have even one malicious thought against me. I knew this was the fucking irony. Most of the time, I don't even remember if they are alive or not, yet in my hardest moments, they are on my mind. I told myself that I need to recover. I need to stand up, and show them that you can't kill a devil so easily. And to show them not to mess with me. Patience is a quality many don't have, but that doesn't mean I have plenty. I've always thought that people underestimate me because I'm too patient with them, but the truth is the moment I go, I'm never coming back. After my whole corectitudeness speech, I'm sure many thought I'm some kind of moral police of something. Well, the truth isn't that far. If it's one thing that I hate, is people having their way without deserving it, or because of others. Copying others. Destroying others. Putting someone else to resolve their problems. I've always thought that everything that you do yourself is good enough, but these kind of people aren't kind to being with. I've always thought I should be the example and the punishment of these people. To leave them at the bottom of the grave they dug for me. And to show them how to really win. Honestly. But, as I said, I've forgiven everyone. Why is that that they make me keep going? If that isn't irony, I don't know what is it .
This visit at the hospital didn't help with much, they don't have an answer for my being. But at least I know I'm ok. I was just too tired of the same day repeating itself. Waking up, throwing up, pills, and then hours on a chain that amplified the pain in the right side. Lying in bed, lifeless. Apathy. No connection or communication to the outside world. Just me and my thoughts. And people who didn't believe me. It was horrible.
Aw, you crying? Don't worry, this is not the typical "nobody understands me" chapter. We got past way throught that. This is a demonstation of me keeping the promise with myself. Because I promised myself, and the seven angels, that I'll take care of me. This is a declaration of war, to whoever dares to come at me. This is my kingdom. And against the ones who want to see me down. You might grow old waiting. This is a lost and unwritten part of the promise, to rise again and to defeat. This is a warning. I'm coming back, and I'm coming stronger. This can be everything you want to be. Take it was you please.
This is for my future self. To prove that I was fighting. I want her to read the beginning and think "there's no way she was that sensitive" and then see me, keeping my promise. I'm recovering my mental and physical health. Both are still halfway through. I feel a little better, compared to the beginning of the week but I'm not fully myself again. I'll probably not be for an amount of time, because of all the stress, but at least I'm working on that too. I'll recover. I have to. I have people to prove wrong. And I have people to love. People who stay.
Even if I don't write daily, I hope you didn't forget about gratefullness. Just think about one thing you are being grateful for right now, everyday, at the end of the day. Many of you might not be religious, but I pray every night, so this exercise is like a substitute. I'm grateful that I'm confident in my recovery, and that I'm willing to keep my promise.
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