Je Souhaite

I was three years old when I woke up screaming in pain. I was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis in my right knee less then two days later. By the time I was eight years old, the Arthritis had spread to both of my knees, my ankles, fingers, wrists, elbows, lower spine, and left jaw. I go through pain during the day that many people my age can't even begin to understand.

I wasn't allowed to play sports when I was younger - the high-impact activities would damage my joints even further. I loved soccer and baseball when I was younger. My father and I used to play all the time at the bus stop with all the other neighborhood kids as we waited for the bus to pick us up.

I was forever alienated from my peers as I grew up. Because of the limitations of my joints, it was painful to sit on the floor during story time. I always sat on a chair, despite my dream of being normal.
Arthritis is caused by your body literally attacking itself, antibodies viewing your normal cells as hostile invaders. It is a strange pain that I can't even begin to describe.

I curse my body every morning as I struggle to just be able to get out of bed, to move, to be normal. Why my body decided to attack itself. There is no explanation as to why some bodies do this, and yet some don't. There is no cure.

We can only dream of an end the pain.

Ice

To that uber-sexy cold front that stopped by last night - Thank you so much for making my morning so memorable. I don't think there's any one part of your influence that I can specifically point out, every bit of you was that sexy. From getting into my Jeep and not being able to move because my ass was frozen to the seat, to you ruining some of the power lines to the traffic lights that made those poor Wright County Sheriffs direct traffic in 30 degree weather. It certainly sexy to wake up and be so cold that I couldn’t move.

Though we shall likely never meet again, I thank you, for I will never forget this day I spent with you.

From your frozen admirer - Jenna

Arcadia

I've found that, unfortunately for me and my parents, that TNT has decided to show "The X-Files" in the middle of the night when normal people should be sleeping. Now, it's not exactly a surprise for me to say that I'm not exactly normal, so I'll just throw that out there. I'm not exactly normal. But I am addicted to “The X-Files.” There's something to be said for a show about aliens that ran successfully on mainstream television for 9 years.

So here I am, half-doing my homework, but mostly watching "The X-Files". David Duchovny is a crazy kind of hot. I mean, seriously. God. And, oh holy fuck, he just took off his shirt.

Jesus Christ.

I can die happy now.


Oh god.


Anyways, shit. I'm going to fail out of college and I'm going to blame it entirely on Chris Carter.

Schizogeny

I learned many things about myself this week. Perhaps that's not entirely correct - perhaps I knew these things all along but never let the thoughts surface out of fear of my own being. Perhaps I was unwilling to identify them as my own feelings - wanting to brush them off as passing thoughts and muses, without question, without meaning.
But recent events have made them surface once again, and I am compelled to release it - to put my most secret words onto this void that is a "blog." I don't understand it. I don't know if I want to understand it. But type I will.

What I've discovered is that I never, ever, let anyone know the true me. Yes, many have come close - exceptionally close - but never will I show my true colors. Some just know me as that geeky girl who plays video games, some know me as the girl that doesn't speak. Some know me as the girl who can't seem to stop writing in a notebook. Some as that hyper chick who can't seem to shut up. Some know me as the wolf girl. Or as the swede. Or as the depressed girl who lost her best friend three years ago. Some know more than one side of me. But I fear that no one in this world will ever truly know me. Who I am, what makes me tick, what I like to do in my spare time. There are only five people in this world who have come close.
One is dead.
The second betrayed me and left me broken.
The third knows many, many sides of me- some sides I didn't even know I had, but has yet to know of my hidden pain.
The fourth knows of my pain, knows of my energy and sadness, and came incredibly close to knowing the full 'me' - which is amazing considering the time I knew her for. One year ago, I met her. We were inseparable for a month in my life that many cannot begin to understand. The month ended, and as she lives in Chicago, I have not seen her since. I miss her. We were sisters, her and I, sisters separated at birth, then randomly joined for the first time in their lives by a common ancestry.
The fifth knows of my pain, knows of my energy, knows of my geekiness. She has seen so many sides of me, many of which I didn't even want to see. But times change. People change. Does she still know me? Does anyone truly know me? And why won't I let them?
I have come to the conclusion that I am afraid.
If they know me, will they still want to be around me? Is it because I have such low self-esteem that I don't let anyone know me because, in my mind, no one could possibly want to be around someone like me?
I don't know anymore.
I simply don't know.