Because It's Better To Be Irrational With Me Than Rational With Someone Else

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Trust Me! I Didn't Try To Kill Myself; ERs Don't Do Follow Ups

Ok my day was crapshit, and it's still bad, and I'm annoyed and I'm irritated

I woke up with the worst headache ever; I could feel every single tiny vein in my brain pulsating. I still went to classes. I don't remember much because time was skipping in my head (by that I mean, I would black out every couple minutes but I would still appear fine to others, hmm I'm not explaining this right... oh well). Supposedly, during the times in which my brain would turn off, I acted strange: I was quiet and would respond with monosyllables, and wasn't smiling. Strange indeed, I always smile and talk. I don't remember much from Physics but supposedly I was staring blankly at something, when my professor asked me if I'm fine. I shook my head just to minutes later slide down from my chair. I passed out. (That's what happened according to my friends).

I was carried to the nurse's office and my emergency contact was contacted. Funny story, really, because my emergency contact is Dr. Steve (I took my parents out). He didn't pick up his cell, so the nurse called his office. The secretary said he was with a patient so he'll call me as soon as he's done. I can imagine the nurse's face when she realized my emergency contact is a doctor. I can also see the secretary's face; she was probably smiling like crazy and repeating to herself "I knew it! I knew it!" As soon as I "woke up", so to say, I was notified that the school was kind enough to excuse me from work, so kind (notice the sarcasm). They could've just let AE know that I'll come late. Mofos.

So I drove home. My head still hurt, and I still felt like dying... so I took five Ibuprofen. Not a good move, especially since it counterreacts with my prescription medication. I went to lie down but that's when everything went downhill. I started hallucinating. I saw my bed turning vertically and I started sliding down. See, I knew that this wasn't really happening, but my body didn't and I was holding on to the edge of the bed so I wouldn't fall. But yea, I did fall off the bed. Then I started feeling like I'm sliding off the floor. That's when I passed out again.

I woke up late in the evening just to find out that my emergency contact was ringing the bell and Punkster was barking and licking me to wake me up. I dragged myself to the door, and there he was, Dr. Steve. I was happy for a split second. Then he got annoying.

He started acting all know-it-all. I was sitting all shaky and angry and I was looking straight ahead while MR. STEVE was screaming at me that I'm irresponsible. He looked at my hands and asked why am I hurting myself, is my life this horrible that I need to hurt myself just so I could transfer the emotional pain to physical (uhm, they were stupid not intentional accidents. And yes, my life is pretty bad, but I wouldn't hurt myself because of that). Then, he continued wondering what I tried to accomplish by taking five Ibuprofen; was I trying to kill myself (ans: no, I wanted the pain to go away)? So he was giving me a speech and complained that I try to hurt all those who love me. He screamed at me for the fact that the only food he can find in the house is for Punkster (well, I'm sorry that I don't earn 100K+ a year!), and all I eat is junk food (ehem, 1. it's cheap, 2. I need to gain weight). All I was thinking of is: why is he here? Why is he acting as if he knew more about me than he does? Why is he acting like my boyfriend, or worse, my father (oh gross)? Why does he care?

Now he's sleeping in my bed because I have only one, and all I want to tell him is this is not a motel, or that he should bring a mattress from now on. I'm seriously angry and pissed at him. I don't know if I have reasons to be, the fact he cares is his only offense. I enjoy being lonely, single, and taking care of myself (although I suck at accomplishing any of those). Right now I need pity, I feed off pity, and all I got was a lecture. Fuck him and his medical degree. Fuck the fact he saved my life. But shit, I do like the man.

I think tomorrow I'll change my emergency contact to ER's 911.

12:28 a.m. - April 27, 2006

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