amelia (mmmbopthis) wrote,
amelia
mmmbopthis

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infection of my groshong (boobage tubage). Called pseudamonas. Greeat. Here till monday. Taking boobage tubage out. even more greatness.

Andrew called me yesterday and was such a sweetheart. I love talking to him because no matter what is going on, he is always there for me. All those boys, despite whatever is going on in their lives, always have time for me and that makes me feel sooo damn great.

And I was under the assumption that I would miss the championships for winterguard, when in actuality they are next weekend. Yay!



It just seems like a crock of shit, you know? I'm stuck in here and even though she is an awesome person, I am still pissed that things are going on when I am not in my own apt. I just worry about my stuff. Look out for it, okay? I will tell you this when I call today, but damnit, I am uncomfortable having people there who could yoink my stuff. Of course, some of this is justifiable by the fact that today just seems like a really shitty day. The hospital has become my life. I hate it. I hate being here, I hate having to be here, I hate everything involved. And you know what, that's fine. Life is just really shitty. I love my friends, and I love my roommate. She does things for me when I ask it of her. But fucking...you know nothing of hell. There is a battle in my head that has just begun. I feel like the nine circles of hell are in my head - somewhere between the recurring eating disorder, having leukemia, having a rare fucking staff infection in my groshong (the only thing keeping me functioning right now), hating my dependency on other people, missing my mom, getting needles fucking poked in my arm every day, financial aide troubles, and having feelings for a guy friend who I kind of dissed around valentine's day (of course, who would want a bald girl who has leukemia anyway), yeah, I am sure there are nine circles in there somewhere.

I'm sick of sympathy. [insert specific unnamed case here]. I know that I will get over this, but I want instant gratification, damnit! I hate even writing in this stupid thing because I think people will just think, "oh, well, there goes amelia on her leukemia soap box again." Whatever.

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