Tonight I went on a drive. I listened to the country station. I don't know what it is about country music lately. Maybe it's the fact that it always reminds me of her. Almost 4 years now, that's freaking crazy. Sometimes it's still weird that she's not here. I mean, I'm used to it. But I'm still not content with it. I'm not content with anyone dying at an early age, whether it be natural causes or a substance abuse issue like in this case. Maybe it's because country music soothes me. Yeah, that's it. It soothes me. It represents a simple life. A life when a beer in one hand and a guitar in the other is just enough anyone ever needs. My life will never be that simple. Not in my wildest dreams.
I went to The Malt Shoppe today with a couple of girls. They all got shakes. I ordered fries. I kinda just looked at the fries at first. Picked one up, circled it around like a pen on the tray. Writing my name in grease. Then I looked up at the other girls. They were conversing as usual. I don't think anyone realizes how hard it is for me to be different. I don't like to complain much, because it's not a big deal. I don't have rashes all over my body (usually), I don't have seizures, I don't have cancer. But I'm not normal. I'm just not. There is NO way around it, no matter how badly I wish there was. By the end of dinner, I had eaten my fries. Only because another girl had paid for them. I wish I stayed home tonight. I went home and I cried.
I was talking to my fitness teacher about my health issues. A girl butted in and started going on and on about how my life sucks, and if she were me she would rather commit suicide than be in my position. Isn't it enough, I thought, for me to go through this as a personal struggle? Why do people have to make it a bigger deal than it is? I guess that's what I get for trying to suck it up and be open to people about this. I went home and I cried.
I went home for lunch today. My friends went somewhere to eat. Somewhere I couldn't eat. I wasn't bothered by it at all. I have the best friends ever, and they were willing to go somewhere else for me. But I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to bring attention to this stupid disease. I didn't want this to be causing other people restrictions. I'm not letting this disease ruin other people's lives. One life is enough. I got in my car and cried on the way to my house to eat a bag of Skittles.
I opened my drawers to get dressed this morning. My PKU Awareness shirt was sitting on top. It's so dang cute. 'PKU Awareness' printed across it in pink, bold lettering. And a cartoon of stick figures all holding hands. I wanted to wear it so bad. But then again, I'd rather die than wear that shirt to school. I'd be the only one in the school who had that shirt, maybe even the only one who knew what PKU Awareness was for. I have extra awareness shirts. Maybe I'll give them out, I thought. Then I laughed. Who was I kidding? No one would ever want to wear a shirt advertising awareness for my misery.
I wish I could give up. Honestly, I wish I could throw in the towel and say, Screw it I'm done with trying. But I really can't. I can NOT risk my life. I don't have the guts. And I don't want to live my life as a mentally retarded girl. But then again, I don't wanna live my life like this. Maybe I don't want to live this life at all.
Tonight I'm going to wear my PKU Awareness shirt to bed. That way, I know I'm still holding on. It's by a thread, but at least I'm holding on. Oh how badly I wish I could wear it to school, give the extra shirts out to people for them to wear too, make myself feel less hidden away. Make me feel like I'm NOT constantly trying to hide something from people.
So here I sit, watching the Country Music Awards, wishing I could sit on a stool with a guitar in hand and sing a sad song.
But I don't think I have the motivation to do even that at this point.
Good night bloggers.
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