ten thousand more

It’s coming up on the big day and for a little while I was actually able to forget about it…found meaning in painting again, in witnessing my younger siblings’ awesome potential and magical ability to just be happy. A beautiful couple weeks without any physical pain. Then everything rushed back in. Can’t paint, can’t write, can’t cook, can barely open doors. Nobody knows what it is and nothing has helped. Undiagnosable pain in my hands since I was 16.  Nothing makes me feel as hopeless as this. Not knowing that I will never find love with a girl, never have babies or finish school, never be normal or happy. Those things don’t shake me like the pain does. It’s the pain that makes me suicidal. Can’t work in my chosen profession. Can’t do much to distract myself because using my hands hurts too much. Constantly apologizing for being bitchy and mean. Can’t even get drunk, alcohol makes the pain worse. I ran out of reasons to keep going a long time ago, why haven’t I done it already? IDK. Because I keep thinking maybe something will happen to prove that I need to keep going. Can I go my whole life believing in something just around the corner?