It is 3pm. I have just managed to drag myself out of bed, but only far enough to my computer desk. My symptoms are not terrible today — just the rash and mild spasms so far. But it’s times like these, in between having the physical afflictions completely overtaking me, that can be the hardest of all. Because then I have time to think, to reflect on all the things that have been happening to me, and it is so overwhelming, I have trouble finding motivation to do much at all, and emotionally, I shut down and become numb.

In the back of my mind, I know that I do want to be brave, to be strong. To believe as much as everyone else that I am going to get through this.

My friends’ support has meant so much to me throughout this process, and I honestly would not even have been able to get this far without them. And so I don’t want to call and confess about the emotional toll this sickness has been taking on me. How can I be so ungrateful? It could be a lot worse. What right do I have to feel this way? All is not lost yet. It has only been a month. And they have already been there so often, and I should be independent enough not to need someone around all the time.

But the truth is, in the past month, sometimes each minute feels like an eternity, and as much as I try to tell myself that I am being overly dramatic and need a slap back to reality, I feel suffocated by my thoughts.

I write this entry not for pity, but because I know that when I go back and read it, I will be disgusted by my own whining and saddened by my lack of optimism. And maybe it’ll be a push in the right direction, in digging deep within myself and finding the strength to just keep moving. One day at a time.

It has been five months since I told you that I didn’t think it was working. It has been about seven since you first walked into my life. It wasn’t love at first sight, and anyway, I’m not sure I believe in such a thing. It was a series of random run-ins and the constant urgings of an acquaintance which led me to decide what the hell, let’s jump in. And it was wonderful and it was messy and everything in between. And it took so much time to recover.

Fast forward to the present. I am sick and at this point, I am not so sure anymore the doctors will figure it out. My health is up and down every single day, and simply because you catch me on a good moment does not mean the next will not be horrendous. I feel as if I should post a sign somewhere, to be changed throughout each phase: Good time. Bad time. Now unable to walk AND spasming! Having trouble breathing… Every medication save one seems to impact me negatively, even when the side effects are supposed to only occur in 2% of the general population. And not a single one alleviates my symptoms as it should.

I am not working anymore, and I’m about 10 chapters behind total for classes. I have missed two midterms and hours of the project for my honors class.

Sometimes it is difficult to even get out of bed, I am so exhausted.

And then there is you. And honestly, I have no room to think about it now, to contemplate whether it’s a good idea or not. But I know this: we have both changed and stayed the same in the time apart. And yet, when you are around now, I smile more. I laugh. And sometimes, for a few seconds, I even forget that I’m not okay health-wise altogether.