The Feel Good Drag

Again, I feel unwell and falling into a bottomless pit. I’m sick of the things people expect from me. Not so much what people ask from me. I don’t mind helping people. But lately, I have had a lot of work to do.

I’m tired of cleaning my house, and doing chores. If you know me well – say, Vivien, Rachel, and of course Lilian and James – you’ll know the ridiculous amount of spontaneous housework I have to do – and believe me, it isn’t fun, and it takes up so much of my time.

Lately, I have tried to help myself up. As I said, I’ve tried to organise myself. I’ve made little to-do lists for each day, even tried to put blocks of time in – but I can’t stick to it.

It’s not so much that I can’t. It’s more that something comes up – something that pisses me off – and I get completely out of control. Someone might annoy me, I might have to run an errand, or something just distracts me. 😐

I’m mostly sick, lately, of people who fucking expect me to do things or feel that they hold some importance in my life. Don’t fucking flatter yourself. 🙄 Just – don’t expect things from me. I’m not a robot. I don’t like being ordered around. I don’t like when people only ask me when they want something. That’s just rude…

I’m still trying to pick myself up. I know I won’t give up. Some things just pain me, and I feel under so much pressure. I know I want to take my time with things, but sometimes I just can’t.

Not long ago, my family and I got back from eating out. We ate gourmet pizza to celebrate Father’s Day. Pfft.

I don’t like pizza. No one ever tended to believe me, but here, I’ll tell you why. I guess I’ve sort of grown to like it a bit over the years, but otherwise, it’s terrible.

I was ten years old when I was diagnosed with a high cholesterol (of some 8.5 – the normal level is about 5). It was most likely inherited, because my dad has it, and my grandparents had it. Along with diabetes and high blood pressure.

Maybe back then, I did eat one too many Mars bars. But I never really ate pizza, and I started to develop a hate for it. The taste. The grease. The dripping oil. The excessive cheese. Too much ham. And soon after, I felt that whenever I encountered pizza, I refused to eat it.

Then again, it might have been the scene in the movie She’s All That (I loved Freddie Prinze Jr at the time) in which the bad guy puts his pubic hair onto a pizza. (Oh, that turned you off, didn’t it.)

But nevertheless (that scene didn’t scare me that much), I didn’t like pizza.

And while not many people believe me on that, they also refuse to believe that I have a high cholesterol. I’m thin. I weigh 43 kilograms (some 94 pounds). And it gives people reason to believe that I just don’t have excess fat in my arteries.

Please, don’t judge people how they look. Some people have diseases. Some diseases are noticeable. Some aren’t. And you shouldn’t put a stereotype on diseases and illnesses.

I’m squeezing a stress ball right now. It’s the one I got from an open day at university, and it’s shaped like a funny man. Lilian posted her collection of stress balls on her Tumblr.

It feels… oddly comforting. Like a warm, safe, embrace. Sometimes all you need is a hug.

Comments are closed.