Uh oh, here I am complaining again.
My cold is still lingering like my puppies breath after she eats one of her turds. I’m on antibiotics, because it turned into a sinus infection and made me start coughing, as well. (Bronchitis was averted, thankfully.)
I keep waking up each day with the fervent hope that I will feel a bit better, but I am just exhausted. I have no energy, my brain is on standby and I can’t help but to be a salty dong.
I have a funny story about a salty dong, but I will save it for another time.
The pain has been a constant companion. This attack of the mucus hath giveth me a flare of epic proportions. Damn you, snot.
But thanks to my new antidepressant, my sense of humor is intact and feeling extra fine and dandy, thank you very much. My new shrink and my mother approve of Viibryd. So do I, at least at this point.
Shit, I’m gonna need it.
I mean, I’m not farting Skittles or anything, but I can at least make a joke and laugh a little bit. That’s good, right?
Here’s yet another fibro meme. You’re welcome.
They keep making these things more and more vivid. I hate to say it, but it’s rather spot on. I would have no qualms about walking around looking like a skeleton, if only I could feel normal again.
Since I am being so honest, I should just come out and say it, even though it makes me feel like the most petty asshole in the entire midwest.
When I am on Facebook and see that others do have a normal, functional life, with outings and oodles of friends to hang out with, I am fucking jealous. I haven’t been a social butterfly since I was a young girl, but I never go anywhere now, unless you count a doctor appointment, my weekly trip to the store if I can muster the stamina, or my Saturday visit with my mom. I have no friends who make it a point to visit me, or take me out even for just an hour or so.
Even if I did, would I even feel up to it anyways? Doubtful. It’s cool, I shall just sit here and turn into a turnip, or a nice summer squash.
It hurts me, I suppose. I need to come to terms with it, or limit my time on Facebook.
It’s all a huge chasm of bullshit. I’m a salty dong.
No, I said salty dong, not dog. Get it right.
* I will explain the whole salty dong thing in a future post, promise.