My attempt at a brave face during a round of steroids.
I wish I could wri te all of my fruustrations ou t without so much pain. With each relapse I feel like I lose ano trher piece of digni ty and an even larger por tion of who I am. I used to be so s tr ong when it came to figh ing this disease, I've lost that. I forget who that person was. With each bit of steroids my flesh fills out bit by bit unt il I'm just a rounded bit of dough. I'm playdouggh being stretched ou t and slammed into t iny puddles of mush. '
I won' t apologize for my typing and I won' ttake the time to edi t or spellcheck, because t his is wha t his disease has taken from me. My hands are useless. I feel useless. I can't take care of myself. I haveSteven he re taking care of me but how long befor e he grows weary of my neediness, my r oid r age an my anger and bolts? Could I seriously blame him? No, I'm no t sure I'd ghave the heaert to stick around ei ther.
I'm just so tired of fighting. What am I fighting for anyway? Resisting the urge to just roll over and die... I don' t know if I have trhge energy for that anymore. I'm just..exhausted.