So, it's Monday. My body hurts. My brain hurts. My throat hurts. I don't think I'm sick. I had a bad day a few days ago, and it's wreaking havoc with my body. I fucked up my insulin the night before, and thank god Scott was sleeping with me because I had a seizure in my sleep from low blood sugar and he woke me up and got paramedics. I hate medics, but what can you do? They forced me to go to the hospital, which I had no interest or need to do. But they made me nonetheless. It's okay, though, they were just doing their jobs. I am pissed at myself that this happened. I could have prevented it, but I spaced. Seizures send electrical impulses through your muscles making them contract, so my arms, legs, stomach, hands and feet, neck and my whole body really is super sore. I sort of deserve the pain, but it sucks anyway. After my few hours in the hospital I went home to Berkeley for the night, to say hi to my mother and keep her company while my dad is out of town. I am fine now. I don't like to dwell on the past. I have been overcompensating a bit, taking too little insulin and eating too much before I sleep to prevent this from ever happening again. It really can't. I'm almost uninsurable. I may be already. In six or seven years, this shit will be on my record and I won't be dependent on my tax returns, so insurance companies are going to charge me an arm and a leg (probably more, actually) to insure me. And I'm sure as fuck not going to be able to afford it. This weighs heavily on my mind. I love my boyfriend. He saved me that night, and he saves me every night by sleeping with me and listening to my bullshit and my obsessiveness. I tell him every time I see him that I love him, but I'm not positive that he believes me. I really do, though. I don't know what I'd do without him. I know what I'd do, actually: I'd be really sad, pathetic, and extremely lonely. I love him holding me. I love him telling me he loves me. I love him.
These fucking jobs haven't called me back. It's so damn frustrating. I hate being unemployed and on a budget that I don't control by employment. Damnit!
'And I'll be back in the summertime with a handful of flowers and a bottle of cheap wine. In the summertime, and I know just where to find you at. And when I do, I ain't comin' back, no, so long as you're by my side.' ----'Summertime' by Crimpshrine