Saturday, May 19, 2012

The words are gone

Okay, I tried that. It took about 16 hours for it to ruin my life. As if my life wasn't already ruined. Can I tell you about the bloating? I don't want to tell you about the bloating.

I just told you. One day there will be a moment when suddenly things start getting better, and it won't just be a delusional feeling in my head. I know I said I wasn't going to try meat again until I got this bloating under control, because I already know that I can't digest the things that I can digest, so how would I be able to digest something so alien? But then I got desperate – reading all the effects of toxic metals in your body, thinking about when that last naturopath said about my liver: it isn't life-threatening.

But I hadn’t asked if it was life-threatening, so then I thought: is it life-threatening? What does that mean anyway: death on the horizon, something I don't ever want to think about. But then I started thinking about cancer, just now I mean, when I said death on the horizon, even though I don't have cancer, but then I got scared: do I have cancer?

I don't have cancer – no one has suggested cancer, no one – let's not think about cancer: my father's intestinal pain, they never knew what it was until: death on the horizon. I don't really know the details about his pain, because of all the pain he caused me. I just have this horrible intestinal bloating that goes on every day for the whole day, and then gets worse for about 12 to 15 hours every night. My energy just gets lower and lower, so that now it's even hard to write. Exhaustion – regular exhaustion – that sounds relaxing. This is something else – of course it's been something else for a long time, I search for the words and the words search for me, but then I'm too exhausted and the words are gone.

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