There is something about this time of the year that makes my mind especially restless. Music becomes more and more necessary to calm my mind and I listen to it almost constantly.
Right now I'm lying in bed, listening to The Velvet Teen, spilling words onto an old blog.
Orange light lines my wall, a dirty window creates spots. I feel sick and sick and sick. But I'm not, besides my chronic condition, at least.
Sometimes I wonder if the hatred I felt towards myself in the past somehow became my autoimmune disease. My body is destroying itself. It would almost be poetic if it wasn't so devastating. Now I'm taking pills that make my body weak so it doesn't kill me. I'm faced with the same dilemma I faced even before SLE- how do I fight the thing trying to kill me if that thing is myself? When I think too much about it, I know it's time to go to sleep.
None of it makes sense anyway.
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