Piss Me Off Not.
I am in pain. Constantly. Yes, I know it. Nothing but vicodin really stops it. But Shari wanted to go out to dinner last night, and I wanted to, too, to celebrate that I don't have cancer. I was in a no reception area and when I got home my mother glared at me like I was the most evil thing on the planet, said I was a liar about the pain and don't act my age.
I listened to the messages once I got to my room. She told me she'd canceled my bed....and that she wasn't going to help me find a surgeon anymore. I thought she was just angry, fibbing...until she gave me her cell phone this morning and told me the receptionists would call me back today. And told me I was on my own.
You know what? I may not be mean...but I can be a vengeful person sometimes. You don't wanna help me? Fine. I'm not going to tell you when my surgery is. I will have someone pick me up in the dead of morning and leave and not tell you were I'm going. As I go missing for days, I won't have my cell phone on. You can call the cops, go ahead. I don't give a shit. Because in the end I'll be in hospital, and there's nothing they or you can do about it. And if by chance you do find out where I am....I'm going to tell the Nurse's Station to not omit you. You will not be allowed to see me. And all the while I'll just keep reminding myself how you didn't care to help. How you were so pissed off and called me a liar about how I don't feel well when I needed to leave the house. How you guilt trip me about my 2000 dollar bed...when you're spending 5000 on surgery for a dog's knees because you feed her too much. Is it sad that I know if you had to choose which one to save, you'd pick the dog over me? It's true. And it's sad that I wake up feeling like shit every morning from the cyst on my ovary, only to have both of you wake me up and tell me how much of a horrible kid I am. Like you do all the time.
You know, you're the only two people in the world who make me wish it was cancer. Honestly. All I kept thinking about last night was I wish I had cancer and was dying- just so I could be free of you. Just so I don't have to feel like scum of the earth for a little while.
I listened to the messages once I got to my room. She told me she'd canceled my bed....and that she wasn't going to help me find a surgeon anymore. I thought she was just angry, fibbing...until she gave me her cell phone this morning and told me the receptionists would call me back today. And told me I was on my own.
You know what? I may not be mean...but I can be a vengeful person sometimes. You don't wanna help me? Fine. I'm not going to tell you when my surgery is. I will have someone pick me up in the dead of morning and leave and not tell you were I'm going. As I go missing for days, I won't have my cell phone on. You can call the cops, go ahead. I don't give a shit. Because in the end I'll be in hospital, and there's nothing they or you can do about it. And if by chance you do find out where I am....I'm going to tell the Nurse's Station to not omit you. You will not be allowed to see me. And all the while I'll just keep reminding myself how you didn't care to help. How you were so pissed off and called me a liar about how I don't feel well when I needed to leave the house. How you guilt trip me about my 2000 dollar bed...when you're spending 5000 on surgery for a dog's knees because you feed her too much. Is it sad that I know if you had to choose which one to save, you'd pick the dog over me? It's true. And it's sad that I wake up feeling like shit every morning from the cyst on my ovary, only to have both of you wake me up and tell me how much of a horrible kid I am. Like you do all the time.
You know, you're the only two people in the world who make me wish it was cancer. Honestly. All I kept thinking about last night was I wish I had cancer and was dying- just so I could be free of you. Just so I don't have to feel like scum of the earth for a little while.