THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Well woo-fucking-hoo for potentially broken bones.
I'm going to have an x-ray tomorrow.
Gee...It's like a total flashback from last summer when I had to go get x-rays at the same spot.
Only then it was a torn ligament in my knee and not a broken bone in my foot.
I'm beginning to think I'm making a habit out of severely injuring myself around mid-August.
But this one's very exciting, you see. I've never actually broken a BONE before.
But I'm really glad I get to go get x-rayed tomorrow. My foot gets more and more bruised by the hour, it seems.
It's gross.
Really gross.
The doctor (who for a change was not the completely incompitent moron she typically is) was in complete shock that I had been able to walk around on it for almost a week.
I suppose freakishly high pain thresh holds must be useful for something.
Seriously. It gets pretty old.
It just takes a lot for me to feel actual physical pain...I don't usually even notice all the ten-thousand cuts/scrapes/bruises I get constantly.
I'm just babbling.
Yeah, yeah.
And now I think that I'm suffering some kind of emotional detatchment disorder thing.
I eat constantly. Which a lot of times can be associated with feeling loss or apprehension for something/someone.
(Note to self: Must stop watching Court TV and the Discovery Channel)
But really.
I've turned to constant grazing and I don't know why. I never have actual meals. It's kind of gross.
But I guess right now I'll just pretend it's not actually happening and that I'm entirely content with the fact that I can't even feel how painful my fucking foot is right now due to the fact that I had ridiculously large amounts of ice on it through about three and a half episodes of Law and Order.
Oh, and by the way: I am so not a germaphobe.
Just because I refuse to touch anything in a doctor's office and lysol everything regularly proves abosolutely NOTHING.
I mean, come on. Doctor's offices are GROSS. They are full of SICK PEOPLE.
I do not want to be SICK.
And thus it would be logical to keep away from things that have been coated in their strange bodily fluids.
Really. I don't see what my parents mean.
And the lysol? Doorknobs are GROSS.
Having personally seen my sister's hygeine practices, I don't know why everyone doesn't do it. She almost got dreadlocks one time because she refuses to either wash or brush her hair. And my mom doesn't do ANYTHING about it.
Also GROSS.
(Note to self: Mother may have point. But still continue to disbeleive her)