u/General_Leader425

I got a message that no account exists for my email or log in.

One thing that I feel like venting about is people (particularly coworkers) not understanding that one I have chronic pain, and two, when I get sick on top of the chronic pain, that I expect not to get any snarky comments.

Most people I know without chronic pain are understandably and justifiably annoyed or sickly while sick.

Everyday is a sick day for me. So if you add a sore throat, nasal congestion, headaches, or migraines (which I also get typically two times per week), it is just exponentially worse.

Wish people would understand or care.

Just venting. I have a pretty messed up sinus right now, and even though I got fired 6 weeks ago, I could just imagine them calling me out of the doctors visit or physical therapy, or the emergency room. (Which they did all of).

I cannot fathom ever reprimanding an employ because they were having surgery in the emergency room. (Which they did do).

WARNING: Triggers on body image.

I have experienced a lot of physical and mental pain in my life. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, was as brutal as losing you. I had every chance to be what you wanted me to be, which was really just who I was when I met you. Before I did any drugs or drank any alchohol.

You told me you hated what I was doing.

"Where were you today?"

"This isn't you."

"I don't know how to respond to this."

"You know... You could always come party with us... In LA."

I was too busy doing one more stupid workout from some dumb trainers on youtube. I bought this dumb course because I thought if I could cut down to a six pack that I would make the team.

Preferred walk on. Coaching change. Too much fat. Lose weight.

So I ate 800 calories a day of only tuna. And then I put my finger down my throat to purge to make their weight.

I ran and made a 5 minute mile.

I did 225 pounds for 20 reps on squats.

Eventually a 1000 pound powerlifting total.

I smoked all that pot as a painkiller. I used all that adderall, which is basically just meth, to suppress my appetite. For fast absorbing, I used it in a non-oral fashion, if you catch my drift.

They body shamed me so hard. The biggest mistake I ever made was not telling them to f*** off earlier.

I should have left and gone to LA. God knows I wanted to.

God knows I should have.

But the good news is now I am sober. I hope to bump into at some coffee shop someday.

I love you. Our ship is "Billion".

"I am the smartest person on the planet but I can be really stupid sometimes."

That's what I texted you when you asked me, "Where were you today?"

You can't hide your emotions from me, I know you far too well. When I planted those roses on your desk the back of the room, I did it because I wanted to make my intentions perfectly clear. I had never seen you so animated. The way you gestured me over. They way you danced in your seat, moving just your shoulders, was beyond words. I was speechless.

There was nothing I regretted more than betraying your trust. You told me that you hated my behavior ahead of time. You also told me about your condition. It was a whirlwind.

Everyone in our friend group that sat at the same table in the cafeteria were talking about this. When we were on TV together at the football game, which is something that I interestingly forgot about, I was genuinely in a state of shock. They showed us? Why? I was confused.

I got back to school on Monday after the CIF championship game at Angel stadium, and everyone was talking to me. When our mutual friend took your phone and texted me all sorts of nasty (in a fun way, that was our humor, remember?) texts, I was genuinely elated.

Because of where I was sitting. I could literally SEE you from where I was sitting. I wasn't watching the game. The entire year, I was looking only at you. You were the only thing I saw. The only thing I cared about.

There wasn't a second in that year we spent together that I cared even remotely about anything else. Quite frankly, I didn't give a flying f*** about anything else.

Everyone was involved on that Prom ask. Everyone knew. I told the entire school. I told everyone off. When they handcuffed me and walked me around campus for a f***ing joint, it felt like the biggest betrayal.

I had never gotten in trouble before in my life except for "Defiance" in 8th grade for not wanting to dress out for PE.

It was so ironic how they thought we all loved the school and had spirit. We all thought it was terrible. That's what the quote was, from our mutual friend, who wrote "Sooner or later, everybody goes to the zoo." That was your senior year picture. Your junior year one was far better. I can imagine you saying, "Stop, don't say that."

I saw that and could not stop laughing. I saw what your friends wrote in the class of '10 yearbook.

It was funny when they took my phone to text my contacts. The same way the year before they took your phone to text me.

I couldn't bear to ask you to sign my yearbook. That cheeky f*** wrote in my yearbook. The Prom king, remember him? I was at his house, in the loft, and we were all laughing at the school.

"This was f****ing terrible. But at least we got to spend it together."

We had a saying in our fraternity about when college days were through. It's just "Love, Honor, and Truth".

I would sign it like this,

LTH #417

I was passed out on the floor of some random woman's apartment in Newport Beach, CA. I had spent the night, and my dress shirt was gone. All I had was my suit and shoes. You had made a joke in our Calculus class that went over my head.

I had no idea you were madly in love with me until I realized we were both stalking each other on the internet.

When I got arrested and charged with 3 felony charges honestly it was fun. It was thrilling. I remember thinking it was finally something to do to break me from the monotonous day to day life of extreme pain. I had prostatitis, an inflammation of the prostate dating back to the car crash where we tumbled 100 yards. That accident was typically fatal, and I was still not quite over the PTSD from the time I collapsed in a ditch walking back from the University library while high on Adderall.

I remember when I was paralyzed when I was six years old; before we moved to the city where you and I went to Middle School and High School together. To this day, I still remember what it was like to not be able to move my legs or waist. I was still fearful of that, too.

I remember the police report saying I was a cocky person with stalker tendencies. (All charges dropped, by the way.) I was scared. I was terrified. I was so nervous, because you were perfect. I don't care what anyone else said about you. I heard gossip. I heard them jealous.

I didn't give a damn.

Thinking of when I made you sad Senior year by getting suspended during our AP Exams for smoking a joint. and not being able to go to Prom with you, those cut like the sharpest knives. Those dark memories fueled raw hatred for everyone and everything. They cut sharper then the 140+ lacerations from the windshield and floor when I crawled out of that wreckage. I cut harder, sharper, and far deeper than the surgery performed to reconstruct my arm without any anesthetic.

I remember when you posted about getting a boyfriend that you were so grateful to have.

That was the worst day of my life. Nevertheless, I was so happy for you. What you wrote, and the pictures I saw; you were so happy. And I only remembered how sad I made you.

I was completely done. This is what I meant when I said that I was spent. I was completely over everything and everyone. And this was before the three year court case, the felony probation, then 21 days time served, etc.

But I did weep one night before all of that. Still getting used to the pain. Because I remember how happy you were when I gave you roses. You were so excited. So beautiful. Smiling. You talked the whole class period, and I didn't say a word and I don't remember a single word you said.

That was the single greatest moment of my life. That hour and a half with you picking through the roses and talking, smiling, and breathing life into me.

Would I do anything different if I had another chance?

Fuck no. I love you. That's all that matters. I remember that silly, girly joke you made about my hand. So funny. It hit me literally 5 years too late.

I remember you dancing in your chair in the back of the class while Old Time Rock and Roll was playing. You were just moving your shoulders.

I'm actually a phenomenal dancer. We should dance together.

And get married. And have kids. And run for Presidential Office together and rule the world.

I'm only slightly joking. Slightly.

Love you, you UCLA Bruin coed goddess (Sorry, I couldn't resist one my of my stupid jokes that you secretly love.)