The journal of odd occurences

Sick.

Recently, I have been feeling so terribly ill. Often, I tolerate any disgusting thing such as blood. Yet now, the mere thought of such things tempts me to throw my lunch back up. Any smell, if strong enough, makes me nauseous to my very core. I've never been so sensitive, and yet here we are.

I have not been sleeping either. I remain awake until dawn often times, and sleep during the day. I feel no physical setbacks from this. I could not sleep at night even if I wished to, nevertheless. I do not eat either. It has all been cut back to one or two meals a day. Mother chews her lip and worries that I've grown too thin. I cannot deny that fact. Yet any sweet, sour or bitter thing makes me recoil. I'm a lost cause, am I not?

At night I toss and turn because my temperature rises to the oddest of degrees. I kick the blanket off, grow chilly, and put it back on. It goes on and on. Sometimes I think of taking my clothes off as well, as it gets so unbearably hot. But I think better of it. I'm always constantly exhausted, with no energy nor willpower to do much. That is to be expected, due to my anemic nature. However I cannot help but expect better of my fragile body. Of myself. I know there is strength in there somewhere. A reason I shan't give up hope. I may be weak, and a lost cause, but I will not be a coward and give up on myself.

I force myself to eat, even if I may gag. I get my legs to walk, even if they ache. I persuade my mind to continue functioning while it simply wishes to drift. I fight for my survival, because I do not deserve death. My health may be out of my hands, and I may be so weak as to not even be able to lift a basket full of groceries. So what? Is that any reason to not be proud of who I've become today? My body does not define me or my personality. It keeps me alive, and it loves me with all of its' heart. Why shouldn't I care for something that loves me so dearly? My body never gave up on me even when I was the weakest. My heart beat, my lungs breathed. I cannot give up on my body when it never did for me.

How can I love others so unconditionally? I get asked this question so often. My answer is, "why not? Do others not deserve love? I have so much spare love to give, why must I keep it all to myself?" This henders them silent for quite some time. Mother holds me in her arms sometimes and whispers in my ear tenderly:

"little angel, where have your wings gone?" I chuckle heartily and say:

"Why, humans tore them off feather by feather. But that's alright, you know. Humans are sick, but sick people always get better." Mother laughs and holds me even tighter.

"How could I ever let you go out into the world?" And she doesnt. Often I am confined at home. Truth be told, I do not even know a simple skill such As crossing the street. I was dropped off at at school, and later picked up. When I could walk home for the first time, I was 14. I was so thrilled for the adventure! It was only a short distance, and I did not need to cross any streets. Mother asked me to call her when I got home every time. Typical of mothers, I suppose. I was only allowed to for a few times, and those were only times that mother could not pick me up.

I do love telling stories, forgive me for trailing off. But yes, I have been feeling truly ill these past few weeks. I do not know the reason for this. I attempted to tell my parents, however they dismissed it as poor sleeping habits. I understand that father is a pharmacist, but shan't I see a doctor at least?

I have been ill of mind as well. I've lost any control of my emotions, and they tend to overwhelm me so. I've always been a bit sensitive, however I find myself being especially tender recently. I grow angry at the simplest things, and cheerful just as quickly. I also sob more often than I used to (and I cry often, believe me.) It leaves me to ponder as to just how naive I truly am. I am genuine, and I speak my mind. I cannot disguise my emotions nor my intentions. They overflow out of me. I've never meant any evil nor to irritate an individual. I may be pesky or irritable when I am in a poor mood, and lash out, however I never mean ill intent. I act on intuition, or instinct, and almost never consider consequences. It is not a manageable trait, which is troublesome. I treat those I dislike with immense disrespect and disregard, because I do not have The capability to conceal emotions. But they truly deserve it, you see. They have either disrespected me, or I have sensed their ill intent.

That is why I may consider myself naive. It may sound as if you are gaining insight into a childs' life. I trust easily, forgive easily, and break easily. The fact that I shared all of this with strangers should prove that, surely. I feel I must end this chapter on that note, as otherwise it will never end! I could go on and on.