Dear Eddie

I hurt, I hurt, I hurt.  And I'm so fucking tired, just weary beyond belief.  But still that horrible voice in my head keeps telling me that I'm not really exhausted, that I'm just saying that to get out of doing anything, that I'm lying about how I am feeling today. That anyone as lazy as I am can't possibly be that tired.  That I'm just faking it for sympathy, and I need to get my fat ass moving, 'cause everyone else is working hard so why can't you too?

Because I'm a big fat stupid cow that can't be counted on for a single damn thing.  Why can't I just try harder??  I can't even tell when I do.

Eddie is trying to keep me from recovering.

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