Oh Chronic Pain, you evil, sneaking, rotten bitch, how I loathe you. My dinner sits uneaten because I can’t use my right hand. What fresh hell is this?
It’s not enough that my bones hate me and plague me with random deep agonies Every. Single. Day?
It’s not enough that my skin burns for unknown reasons and requires me to put ice packs on my feet to fall asleep on those nights that I don’t have to immerse the bitches in boiling water to make my skin stop crawling?
It’s not enough that I lose at least a week out of every month lying in a darkened room, hoping someone will just shoot me or that my head will finally spontaneously combust?
Chronic Pain, you miserable slut, is it too much to ask for you to just pick one part of my body to torment?
*Please note that I realize there are worse things I could be saddled with, I am sincerely grateful for all that I have, and none of this shit I’ve got is going to kill me. So everybody just calm the fuck down.
We Don't Chew Glass 
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