Me. What a waste of life

I hadn’t weighed myself for many weeks. The other day, I even told my shrink not to tell me my weight because I’ve been feeling pretty good, so why destroy my good mood if the number happened to be up?

So this morning, I just had to know my weight. I’ve been using alligator clips to hold my pants up lately, so that’s got to be good, right? Right! Hot damn if I hadn’t lost 5 lbs since I last checked! I was elated for the entire morning.

Fast forward a few hours, and I was looking at pictures of little Talia Castellano all over the internet. One picture in particular really affected me in a most profound and personal way, and I completely lost it. Now I’m feeling horrible and guilty, and disgusted in myself for having a disease that’s so self-centering and isolating, a disease that doesn’t have to be deadly, but here I am more than thrilled at the first sign that I might be getting "sick" again? Pathetic.

That poor little girl loved life, and she lived her life to the fullest, in spite of the unfair hand she was dealt. Where is the sense in this, where’s the justice? She gets "taken home" (or whatever you want to believe,) and here’s me, this old bag who spends hours and hours alone in her room, doing fuck-all but spin her wheels, and not make a difference in anyone’s life, or have any positive impact in this world.

Life. Is. Just. Not. Fair.
RIP Talia