It has been 64 agonizingly long days. They seem to be getting longer and longer. Minutes feel like hours when I sit next to the toilet with blood all over my chin from puking. I'm surprised I haven't had a "breakdown" in school.
I call them "breakdowns" when in all reality, it's just when I can't breath and puke up blood for approximately 15 minutes. The longest episode I had was about 45 to 65 minutes. I just lay on the bathroom floor next to my white porcelain throne and hug myself until the pain goes away.
I feel bad for Brad. He has to sit there and watch the whole thing. He can't do anything about it. He took me to the E.R once when I was screaming in pain and couldn't hear anything but my heart beating like a drum and they couldn't do anything either. They just told him to wait it out and all will be well. Until it happened again of course. He stays home with me because not only is Brad and his family worried that I might pass out and hit my head but so is my mom.
It sucks so horribly bad to live in constant fear. The weird thing is that I seem perfectly normal until you talk to me. I'm much slower and whenever I read, the simplest words don't make sense in my brain. Some days I just want it all to stop but most of the time i'm a fighter who is just trying to get past this. One step at a time.
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Shifted Tides
Teen FictionHere's a bunch of my opinions and daily life of a character who coincidently sounds very similar to me.
