just shoot me

y'know, if i were a horse, they'd have shot me by now. it's so unfair, being all nice to horses and making humans live through the pain.

egads. after six fingers of rum, a hard cider, two niaproxin (sp?), and two ibuprofen, i'm finally starting to feel as if i might possibly be able to walk a few steps upright.

actually upright.

today was so tough on the back i actually came home unable to unbend past a 45 degree angle, and i plopped down on the futon and actually cried. i haven't cried from pain in seven years, not since li'l *c* was b--

wait, not even then. i cried from relief, actually, when they finally tore him out of me because the nine-month hell was finally over, but not from pain. not even from all those gallbladder attacks, or even the megillah gallbladder attack of doom. i didn't even cry then. i didn't cry when i dislocated my shouder, i didn't cry when i broke all those toes of mine. i didn't cry when *jd* popped my elbow out of joint for talking back, and i don't think i cried all those times i was hit.

the last, the absolute last time i remember crying from actual pain was the baseball bat incident. imagine that. in twenty years. it hurt that much, and i was that tired. too tired to fight the tears off and swallow them down because crying is stupid.

i want to be drunk. just smashed off my ass, but i'm clear-as-a-bell sober, and i'm fucking exhausted, but i can't get to sleep. no matter how much i want to.

this is one of those nights where i hate my body even more than usual, and i pray for a bullet in the head. at least i'd get to fucking sleep.