No Way To Live (The Chronic Illness Handbook)

And so we start again, in time, in space and feature out in a new maze. The depression sinks and weaves its way. Setting the music to match the way things are. But even if it were out of misery, there's nothing like what goes before. Even if we dance the dance and dream of better days, I'd be too weary to wave back. I'd be too weary to even focus on anything.

I find it exhausting in all honesty. I don't have the strength to maintain friendships and conversations. Just all too awkward and draining of my time and energy. A vastly depleted source of life. It's to my benefit that I still manage some on the right day. I wish there was a way out that was painless to everyone but to be a slave to commitments is all that I have left.

The source of pain lingers in all places. Transmitting itself wherever it goes. Autoimmunity has been compromised and takes it up another level. And what do you have left? I have nothing at all! So speaks the guy with all the ailments. Might not be that way but it gets very close. One step closer in painfully slow fashion. Knee braces help tremendously when they're not covered in sweat.

What sort of life do I live? What sort of life did I want? I could breathe with the anxiety of a hyperactive ghost, but I'm only working at a snail's pace. And that's no way to live.