Give me the cure...

I've been home all day... my arthritis was so bad this morning and I decided to say fuck it, and after a few dirty looks from my mother and enough guilt to last me a few hours, I went back to bed. I exchanged the DC skate pants I had been wearing for my jammies, and headed to bed still wearing the pink dress that I like wearing over pants. And here I am, still in the pj bottoms and dress, with an ancient hoodie (I've had this shit since like 7th or 8th grade, haha). Well, after really waking up around 9:30 and finding myself in need of something a bit stronger than two tylenol (I don't know how normal people use that shit to ease their pain, I took some of the extra strength and I still felt like crap), I popped a few hydros and lounged around watching TV. My arthritis hasn't been this bad in my back in... well, honestly, it's never been this bad for this many days in a row. I've been trying to not play guitar and watch too much TV, instead of finishing up this book. I've only read like 60 pages, and I have 50 pages to go. The test I was supposed to take was moved to monday at lunch (THANK GOD, I WAS GONNA FAIL THAT SHIT). I'm hoping that my mom makes burritos for dinner... she let me and my dad pick, and he let me pick. I was really nice to him today, I was just too high and too out of it to care. The dog peed in the living room for no reason, so that was bad. It means that I lit a bunch of weird scents of incense (which was a recipe for disaster, yet I still did it), and now my  room is kind of irritating my throat and nose... yeah, I don't know why I did that... I lit the really odd strawberry incense that I got in Austin... it smells like shit, and yet I lit it... Haha, obviously, my mind was not completely thinking.

I kind of bitched out Zack last night, for no reason. But, I apologized, and he was still sweet as can be... I don't understand it. Haha, he's too good to me. Nina R was saying that he thinks so highly of me and not to blow it, etc. Which I thought about today, its one of the reasons I'm not honest with him about a lot of shit, because I feel like he thinks of me in a way that I don't want to lose. I say that I love Zack. I love him as a friend, and I couldn't ask for more in a boyfriend or any man. I guess, I don't know if I really "love him" though. He's just perfect, and I don't know what to think about it. Well, either way, I'm glad that he's mine. He's a great guy.

I'm going to go back to reading and listening to Fugazi...

I guess the reason that I fell in love with this song was because I discovered it after having arthritis for 2 years. As a 13 year old kid, I was angry and I didn't know why mostly. I knew that I was pissed that I wasn't normal, and that no one understood that. I knew that I was pissed at my father on some level, for making my mother be depressed. I knew that I was pissed because I felt like compared to all the money in the world, to me, I didn't mean shit to my dad. I guess that anger never really left and thats why this song is one of my favorites. Probably my favorite song ever.

I'm actually in a pretty good mood.

Have a good night guys!

- Lucy <3

It's a long journey from A to B

My leg hurts. I haven't taken my medication in 3 days. The tightness in my joints is slowly building up. It's a cycle that I get into. I take a hit for pain, but I don't feel like walking across the house for my medication. Right now it's lasted for the last two days, but today I will take it. I have to.

I really want a shower. I feel dirty. The TV is spewing ideas in my face that mean nothing and I'm trying to write a paper, but I should be showering. I'm going to be staying at my friends house tomorrow, so I won't be home until wednesday night.

My brain is jumping around and won't focus. It wants to work on the paper, but also think about everything else. I've always been this way: a day-dreamer to the greatest degree. My mind won't focus and it wants to do summersaults and cartwheels instead of typing a work cited page. 

I'm wearing a long-sleeved flannel shirt that I bought a week ago at the Salvation Army. I like it a lot. It's warm enough to wear on the train and in class, but not as heavy as my regular canvas jacket. It's making me sweat right now. Sometimes I wear long sleeves shirts, not because I have anything to hid, but just so I won't have to see the scar from the surgery. I feel like it brings up too many memories for everyone around me and they get more suspicious of what I'm doing when they see it. They pick through things I've said, movements I've made, and they're all connected to that scar. If I hadn't gotten the abscess they wouldn't know now as much as they do (which is really only a slight hunch they have). I don't like seeing the surgical scar. It's not mine. It's weird but I miss how the skin right there used to look. Puckered into a little hill, or pushed into a valley. I knew it was mine. I had done it. This arm doesn't feel like mine. This arm is someone else's and with that, the mistakes I've made must be too. This can't be me.