you should have known that what you did would hurt...

Sometimes I wonder if I make myself sick. I mean... Not intentionally or anything. But like... Sub-consciously. I mean... surely no one could ever possibly get sick as often as I do. Surely it's not even... Possible.

I mean, this is a virus. Today is a virus. But what about the rest of the time?

Do I stress so much that it makes me physically ill? Do I take too much on and wear myself down to the point where my body can do nothing but be sick?

I mean, I don't sleep... Much.

I work 10-15 hours most weeks just to keep myself alive and in a house.

I attempt to pass year twelve, but most of the time I'm just too exhausted and sick to even be able to think straight enough to do my work...

I mean... I'm on all A's and B's. I know I shouldn't be disappointed in my efforts and grades. But I am.

Annd this is what? My fourth Monday off all year? I push myself so hard to get through the week, then when normal people get a break of a weekend, I get to work, have pretty much no social life, no sleep, and attempt to find time to fit homework in between whatever my family has planned. So by the time Monday rolls around, I think I'm just that sick that... Coping, getting through a day of school just seems impossible. And so I convince myself, it's ok, we'll be working on this assignment that I've finished in Toursim, I have a free, Classics will be working on the essay, free, Justice we might get the new assignment... But we have til week seven on it so surely I can just see him about it tomorrow right? Besides, we'll probably just finish watching that video and it was really boring, and then do more worksheets... I won't miss that much...

But then it all builds up.

And then I slowly start to fall behind. And I mean, don't get me wrong. I get everything done. But I'm not going to deny that sometimes it's a bit of a scramble at the finishline.

But that's the thing.

Falling behind stresses me out... More than I already was. And then we start the entire cycle again.

The cycle of sickness, and tears, and missing him, and bubble baths to calm down. Of late nights and working all weekend and family events that make homework almost impossible until most Sunday nights. Of Mondays staring into a bucket/down a toilet bowl vomiting. Or in bed coughing up my lungs, freezing even though I'm wrapped in layers of clothes and blankets and quilts and scarves with a heater on full. Of Mondays when even just getting up is too hard, and the light is too harsh for me to bear, Mondays spent in the dark, in silence, because it is the only way to survive them.

I'm sick of Mondays.

When this year is over, I am going to be so happy. Screw TERs and getting into uni and getting good grades... I just want to make it through alive.