I get by

I’m a little embarrassed.  I’m so used to being some level of terribly fucking sick and in pain, that I honestly have no idea when something is seriously wrong.  If I went to the ER/hospital every time I felt like I was dying, I’d never be home.  Fuck all that.

The past few weeks have been something out of a horror movie for me.  My head was shoved so far up my ass (Human Centipede, anyone?), I could see Jupiter.  I lived in my little bubble of depression and avoided doing anything, to include talking to my friends and family.  Somewhere along the line (very recently, I’m sure), I decided that I’m ready to call it quits.  I’m too worn out to fight anymore.  I began talking to friends I hadn’t spoken to in months – my own way of saying goodbye.

As I talked to these weirdos, I realized just how good I have it.  I may have a broken, piece of shit body, but I’ve also got people.  A dead person can’t have friends.  I don’t want to give my friends up just so I can blow away in the wind.  Where’s the fun in that?  Also, it turns out that dying isn’t all that fun either**.  It gave me one hell of a hangover.


I get by with a little help from my friends.

**Expect a multi-post explanation when my body gets its shit together.  Until then…


7 thoughts on “I get by

  1. Kara, I think I know where you’re coming from and can relate. My body is about 20 jumping jacks away from killing me and I really want to give it the middle finger and tell it to fuck off for good. But then I think about my people and I know I’m not ready to give them up yet. Right now, there really is no choice.


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