It's back. With a vengeance. That wheezing hack that I thought I was rid of. My lungs convulsed and writhed in pain today under a fresh onslaught of dry wheezing cough. Sometimes I wonder if its the case, that even my basic health is being denied me.
Someone even told me today that I need to lay off the smokes. It's ironic, because I have a violent aversion to cigarettes. It's great how people default to thinking that anything you're feeling is ultimately your own fault. How easy it is to point fingers when it's not yourself that you're pointing at.
I feel particularly bad this week as well. I feel like an atom bomb of truth and vileness, and nobody wants to get close enough to set me off. Nobody really wants to hear what I have to say deep down, and maybe its better that way. No, it is better that way. What I think is my own poison, but it allows me the patience and understanding to deal with any type of person. In a way, I can help everyone but myself.
And yet I'm still expected to sit here and sort through my issues, alone. And find some sort of resolution, alone.
The grief of trust made by people can only be mended by people.
I am not inspired by people saying maybe.
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