I don't want to take this trip alone (September 2010.

It has been over two weeks since I stepped foot into my office, sat at the desk and pretended to keep it together.

In that time, I had my armpit blow up, then I waited in the ER for it to be drained. There's a slit where the abscess was and I like it. It looks cool.

I watched Moe get married. I danced, went for it with the bouquet toss, walked down the aisle without tripping, cried through an entire Mass, got in a car at 2 am and headed back into the city.

The wedding was beautiful and amazing and one of the better nights of my life. At one point, I sneaked into the bathroom and cried because I was in such pain. But still, I danced. And I was high on it for three days because I had proved to myself that I could ignore the pain. For two or so days, I tried really hard and then I called my parents and begged them to pick me up because I could not take the pain anymore. Last week, I did not leave my bed for four days.

I am on disability leave. I sleep all day and stay up all night. I take Xanax. I stare at empty glasses of water, lost in depression. I almost laugh because I am a cliche, but I do not laugh. I just keep staring. The water moves and changes, my vision blurs, but I am still.

I can't write. I think I used to be funny, once. But not right now.

I came back to the city Friday. I came back because I couldn't be at home, staring at nothing and regressing. I am so deeply embedded in the Sickness Zone. I eat only sourdough pretzels and drink icy Gatorade. I try to go out, to drink and dance with my friends. But I only make myself sicker.

They say: treat with prednisone. Take the prednisone, even though it makes you sick and fat and depressed. Take it, and we'll figure it out. We have a working diagnosis! We can figure this is out and it will all be better.

Everyone has been kind. Thank you. I mean this. My friends make me laugh. My parents take care of me, my cousins call, and even work sent over a care package full of fun stuff. I am so appreciative.

But I am stuck. I'm fucking bored. I know this scenario. I am finding it so hard to be positive, and I don't know why.

So I delude myself because there is is nothing else to do.

I think:

It will all be better. One day, I will look back and say: That was a bad year, but it got better, and look at you now...look at you now. You are living the life you wanted to live, and not the one chosen for you.

One day. One day. One day.

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