I Bruise Easily

I have spent the last week pissing about the fact that my foot hurts – solely because I refuse to take said foot to a doctor to be told that, yes, I twisted my ankle, and yes, that (pointing) thing you got tied round it, should stay, irrespective of the fact that it makes said foot more swollen, or that it is not comfortable, or doing any harm or help, or the fact that self is getting the distinct feeling that going unheeded, this getting addicted to painkillers is going to actually become an addiction, and that self should stop asking people of the medical persuasion how one can get addicted to pain medication, especially since medicine bottle says that one should take 2 Tylenol every 4-6hrs, and that every 4-6hrs, said foot feels like someone is practically hammering on it, and that it is so painful that the only way one can actually do anything that requires vertically hobbling from one point to another is by .. WHAT?

But that is ok, I can put my foot up (If I hear that statement one more time, I might have to incapacitate someone [else]), at least now I have a reason to not put my foot in my mouth, seeing as that would mean I aint got no leg to stand on [any more one legged jokes, or double negativity?]

Physical pain is easy to deal with (and thank you people that make Tylenol), but emotional pain, man, that is immensely mersible (as opposed to immersible) in Tylenol, or any of its derivatives (probably why I am still asking how one can get addicted to pain medication, I hear). I have woken up at 0500hrs the last two days, and for that moment between oblivion and observation, there is bliss, and then it hits me, and the pain, this time both physical and emotional, remind me that I am alive. I guess that asking last week if I was alive was a primer to this week.

I am vacillating (that word again) between quite ok and quite teary – and I know for a fact you would frown at my tearfulness. Have you ever met a person that you clicked, so quickly, that you thought your souls were friends in another life? I do not want to cry anymore, if I can help it. I want to be grateful, that I knew you, that my life was made better by knowing and spending time with you, that you are at peace, and that you continue to speak to me, even when I am refusing to listen, like I always do, and in my own way, that I know, that you know, that I loved you.

I bruise easily