now what does this mean
So I know I sometimes go off on these my chest hurts tangents, but I
really think something is wrong with me. Though, I am totally not sure
why. Picture, if you will, that your heart is made of cartilage. It is
a hollow, tender spot hiding behind your left nipple. Sometimes it
feels alive, pinching and sparking you awake at times. Sometimes, it is
completely clear and you can hear the ticking audibly in a silent room.
It’s like a funny little tin can song, which inevitably keeps me awake.
Lately, and I mean over the past few days, the pinching has gotten a
bit intense. Now–there could be a number of reasons, from complete
emotional disrepair, or maybe the way I sit in the chair. It’s like
someone is piercing the cartilage with a blunt object but not getting
all of the way through over and over and over again.
I was walking to the post office as any good citizen would do when they
needed to mail their ebay stuff, and I thought, wow, what an idiot. You
have no identification with you. I pictured the mess of people trying
to figure out what was wrong with me as I lie, out cold, on the post
office floor. How the scars only tell so much, and I don’t even wear a
medical id bracelet, which I absolutely should be
wearing. How stupid and karmically lame the world would be if that was
allowed to happen, and how I would let anyone know, given I have fifty
billion passwords. Okay, so I have like four, but I don’t trust anyone
to tell anybody any of them. But anyhow, so I was walking and thinking,
you know you little whiner, you have mentioned on so many occasions that
your chest hurts that there is no gradation of severity. On a level of
1 to 10 it’s at about a 7, which means that I feel 30% well. It could
be the fact that I have been starving myself in efforts to not be a
pain. It could be that my ribs being off-kilter and my spine
being so bunched up at the base that I am having issues that are coming
out in weird ways. Or, maybe I just have acid reflux! ha!. No, but
really. I hope if karma kills me dead, that
someone somewhere can take advantage of the hefty bank I’ve left behind.
I was laughing on the way home thinking about it, wondering if I need a
real vacation. Then I started thinking I could sell myself on ebay, as
the aching companion. The winner would have to reside in a fairly sunny
place, and the temperature could not average below freezing, EVER. 75
is much much better, but I would have to consider bids, not just based
on price, but entertainment value. I have to have lots of things to
paint, after all. I wonder if anyone has done this. Oh wait–I know. If
you win, you buy my plane ticket. Whoa yeah! I bet the doors would be
busted down for that. Yeah, right.
My mother always told me I would be better off if I found someone to
help me, to take care of me. I, the infinitely stubborn, will never be
that girl. I take care of the people. I forget to take care of myself.
Eegh. I refuse to do another transcription job today.I am going to
paint the next project–I learned my lessons on that one already.
My chest is at a 5, right now, possibly calmed by my falafel dripping
with feta and tahina. Yummy Yummy sandwich, that is. And I just mowed
some rice pudding.
