Iawoke next to the bedroom fire again. My lower half was still wrapped up in a towel, and I was sitting on the edge of one damask-covered chair, bent over at the waist, with my torso draped across a stack of pillows on another damask-covered chair. All I could see was my feet, and someone was applying ointment to my back. It was Marthe, her rough strength clearly distinguishable from Matthew's cool touches.
"Matthew?" I croaked, swivellimng my head to the side to look for him.
His face appeared. "Yes, my darling?"
"Where did the pain go?"
"It's magic," he said, attempting a lopsided grin for my benefit.
"Morphine," I said slowly, remembering the list of drugs he'd given to Marthe.
"That's what I said. Everyone who has been in pain knows that morphine and magic are the same. Now that you're awake, we're going to wrap you up." blahblah
[Note: Book I'm currently reading and what that is from is 'A Discovery of Witches' by Deborah Harkness)
Basically, she's injured badly and needs recovery from this really bad, physically traumatic thing. The thing about the magic is just the book -- it's on witches and such.
It made me snap. Then go hysterical. Now numb with a migraine.
Peppy freaked the hell out. He ignored hot toast for 15 minutes, choosing instead to sit with me (knowing about the toast the entire time, exploring it to check what it is and still not eating it because he was this upset over me)
I haven't slept in 24 hours. Blah. Want to crash and hard...
----
Why does this bother me so much? Because pain relief is not a real concept to me. There is no relief. Ever. It doesn't matter the drugs or whatever I'm on, I'm still in physical discomfort from my different ailments. The pain hasn't let up in over ten years. I'm so tired...
Kolton and I are in a bad spot relationship wise because I cannot accept that this pain is there. I can't heal. I'm just broken. I can't put the pieces back together again and I don't know if I ever will be able to. I haven't since they broke, and that was a long, long time ago. Hell, that was before I hit puberty. Jesus.
This is the types of mornings where I question everything. I'm in a really dark place and I know my thundercloud will blow away, but until then, I'm in a bad state. My poor rat, he was huffing and puffing he was so upset he couldn't calm me. He's used to being able to calm me down when I start to actually physically cry, at the very least. I was just flat out hysterical for the first time in his memory -- I got him in July last year and the past couple of times this has happened I haven't been near the rat.
The garbage trucks are making a ton of racket.
I want to scream. I honestly just might do so.
