Today I took our Bichon, Molly, for a walk. While strolling along, a woman came up to us and asked to pet Molly. The woman, Tara, had Down Syndrome.
Seeing how delighted she was by Molly reinforced my decision to want to help people. It made my heart smile.
Why do I continue to stay?
Tonight I was told that I’m lazy, not really sick, a piece of shit, that no one cares about me, that my Diabetes is my fault (I’m type 1,) that my sister is too fucked up on drugs to come see me, that working in AC will turn me back into a party-girl and that for the next couple of weeks as my body is healing, I’ll be of no use to him.
Apparently he has taken it upon himself to read my emails. Classy.
I don’t need this. I’m in the hospital with another fucking kidney infection and this is what my “loving” boyfriend continues to lay on me.
Once I get out of here I’m going back to NJ. I should leave numbers of anger management and substance abuse counselors for him.
- Me: Well, if I had a penis I would call it "Long Schlong Silver."
- Amanda: Of course you would. That would be really good if you were old and had really gray pubes!!