I've fucking had it with this bullshit. I can't deal with any of you people right now.

"Thanks for paying for it yourself; that show some responsibility."

"I really think going tomorrow would be good for you. You can pay me back if you don't."

Look, I'm sorry I didn't look and see what was above me. I'm sorry I hit my head on that cabinet. But it was a fucking accident! Anyone could have done it. But no, if I do it I'm irresponsible. I have to pay for missing therapy tomorrow. What the fuck am I supposed to say? Do I really seem like I want to TALK? Or ride the bus in a thunderstorm, which, by the way, is the forecast? Do you really think I am going to be that fucking productive helping my fellow group mates with their issues when I can barely think straight? Really?

Don't think I didn't hear her whispering to you in the kitchen. Do I know exactly what you were saying? No. But I can hazard a guess. I know you all think I am a hypochondriac, and you know what, sure, I am a little bit. I will give you that. But I did what you're fucking supposed to do: if you have a headache that is getting worse and no amount of medicine or rest or icing your head is helping, you go to the Emergency Room! I was being responsible for my health. Dammit, I couldn't SLEEP, or think, or anything. What the hell was I supposed to do? Stay up all night in pain? Which, by the way, I did anyway. Yeah, that's right: in almost 36 hours I've gotten ONE, count 'em, ONE hour of good sleep. I'm exhausted.

So don't give me that "do you think you're really trying your best with this?" crap. That's why I didn't want to go in the first place. I had to be CONVINCED by a nurse and by friends to go, because I knew, I KNEW, you would say something like that. Do you think this is what I want? Do you think I WANT to be dizzy and in f*cking miserable pain? Do You think I ENJOY this? You think this makes me happy? I had PLANS! I was going to go out tomorrow with friends! My boyfriend comes back after a three-week long trip this week! You think I WANT to potentially still be on this stupid medication (which, by the way, isn't helping that much after three doses, thank you, Dr. G) when he's back? I don't think so. So don't give me that "are you trying your best?" crap. Like I'm enjoying this somehow, enjoying the attention. Like I have nothing better to do than sit in bed.

And you know what the worse part is? I can't deal with this right now. I have NO patience for other people's frustration right now, let alone my own. My meds have been off for a couple of days, and they will continue to be off because I am too scared to take that one medication with the new one prescribed last night for fear that the two combined will have adverse side effects. Slim chance, but I don't want to risk it. And that doctor wasn't exactly "informative."

So don't, don't give me this shit. I'm too tired, my head is legitimately in pain, I am legitimately sensitive to light and sound, and I am legitimately allergic to people's bullshit right now. So I am sorry about the damn cabinet. You can even call me irresponsible, if you want. But don't, DON'T you DARE ask me if I'm "not giving this my best shot." Don't you fucking dare.

I love you guys, but sometimes, sometimes y'all are pretty damn shitty to me when it comes to my health. It's why I'm terrified now to ever go to the doctor for anything that isn't obviously super serious, because I know I'll just get that look, that slight judgment. Thank you for just reinforcing that fear again.