I’ve had enough
I’ve had enough of constantly feeling like I haven’t slept for a month as soon as I open my eyes. My eyelids feel like lead and my throat is reminiscent of the sandpaper I used to use in my crafting projects.
I’ve had enough of feeling my body ache before it’s even moved an inch. I stretch, and my joints scream in unison. This will repeat for the rest of the day, the percussion that underlines my days, beat by beat by beat.
I love my room. It’s my safe place. I can stay here. I can walk around when I can, open the windows and let the sun caress my face.
I hate my room. It’s my prison. I see the same view every day. I experience the weather through windows. I can see all sorts of people, walking, running, driving... living their life as I once did. I can hear laughter sneak into my room and bore into my brain, reminding me of all that I’ve lost. My cell encourages people to stay away.
I’ve had enough of the fact that the simple act of washing my clothes can take days as a time. I’ve had enough of picking between washing my hair or going outside. I had enough of being bed bound for the next 2 days after doing any menial task. I can’t look after myself at all.
It’s not that I can’t deal with being sick. It’s that I can’t deal with everything that comes with it.
