Well, Shit

31 2 2
                                    

I can't type.

On a keyboard I mean. It's not so bad on my iPad because predictive text corrects me and I find the touchscreen easier to use. But I can't type on a keyboard without making at least one mistake every other word.

I can't type and that frustrates me.

And it stops me from writing a lot because it takes me so long to write one fucking sentence and then I get angry and frustrated. And I give up.

The reason I titled this chapter as I did is because right now, my brain is a huge pile of well, shit.

I don't really know what's going on.

For the past year I have just been getting increasingly tired. It's at the point where I'm going to sleep at eight o'clock in the evening. And if I stay up later my eyes just sting and my limbs stop functioning correctly.

I am so tired. All fucking time.

And physically as well. I can't stand for more than five minutes before I start to get tired and get a headache. And I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me.

I've been to the doctors probably about 15 times since December (in the past 6 months) for various reasons and I'm so sick of it.

It's not even like I'm sad or anything because I have these really awesome group of friends and like, the best girlfriend in the world and I'm happy. But I'm just so tired.

I'm tired and angry and frustrated and my eyes hurt so bad and I don't understand why.

Random CrapWhere stories live. Discover now