My Degradation

Don’t worry, this isn’t the start of some long-winded suicide not or anything; just keeping you guys updated as if, y’know, this was a real blog – the kind that strong personalities do before they gravitate towards YouTube to feed their narcissism.

It is a curious thing, to be betrayed by one’s own body. Perhaps, in some respects, it could be considered that I was the one to originally betray it and this is, simply, some form of biological karma. But it was not due to my actions that my organ failed at the first; it wasn’t a result of my decisions that my tissue rebelled against its role – it wasn’t my doing that caused my stomach to shrivel and my ribcage to expand over it; for my arms to slim and my fingers to curl and my blood to run sluggish and slow.

I have long been possessed by this feeling – that I will be dead in a matter of months. I don’t know from where this thought originated but it has, forever, been lurking at the back of my mind. It has not inspired me to create wondrous and incredible things, to ensure that I will be remembered after I am dead but, instead, it has had the opposite effect. It has made me consistently ask ‘what is the point of this?’ and, invariably, I have discovered that there is little purpose to anything and that a huge portion of society simply revolves around the old cliché of ‘going through the motions’.

I went to college, not out of some desire to learn, but because I didn’t want to do anything and a few more years spent, arguably, outside of society, could only be a bonus for me. I went to university because I didn’t want to do anything and I took English & Creative Writing because it was an excuse to read books and drink and write. It wasn’t hard, the creative writing part anyway; it would have been had I not swapped tutors for the last semester, and this astonishing woman somehow saw some potential in my drunken scribbling and it was, essentially, her marking alone which put me solidly in the 2:1 marking. I have no way of contacting her, unfortunately, to say thank you or to send her a copy of the Caitiff to see how she thinks it turned out.

Honesty is a strange beast; I have always tried to be honest in my writing, if not my personal life, and it seems illicit, repugnant of me to do so, but I enjoy that feeling. With that in mind; my body has betrayed me.

2014-12-19 16.00.48
This is a picture someone took of me on my work experience; it was so cold in that office that the whole Anarchistic scarf thing was completely necessary.

I am diabetic, I have been for around ten years – I actually got diagnosed on Boxing Day so, y’know, there’s that – and, over the last year or so, I have deliberately stopped caring about it. This, in of itself, has not presented a problem and that is why when I was hospitalised due to my diabetes it was due to an infection which turned into an abscess which meant I was unable to eat, speak, or drink without vomiting; not to mention the quite incredible pain.

But, anyway, I escaped – I had the abscess drilled out through one of my front teeth; the second one on the right, as a matter of fact, which I then woke up choking on one night. Apparently I grind my teeth and I ground them so hard that, with the small hole in the centre, I managed to tear a perfectly good tooth in half. So, I had a hole in my smile for a few months and then, the other day, I finally had the free time to go and get it looked it.
The remnants of the tooth is out now, after forty minutes spent in the dental chair and, in removing the tooth, he has also taken a generous slice of gum with him. Anyway, due to the time spent in hospital, when my blood sugar reached dangerously high levels – I mean, obviously, I was hospitalised because of them – the previous sugar levels did a great deal of damage to my gums, somehow relating to the infection I had originally. So, though the tooth is out, I cannot get it really replaced until my gums heal, which could take another month or two. So, I’m stuck with a denture! I’m 21 years old, and I already have a denture – fantastic.

Anyway, that was just me having a little moan, under the vague guise of keeping you lot updated. As always, thanks for reading and, remember –

Blatant Self-Advertising Alert

The Caitiff comes out on Amazon on Friday the 13th – you could check it out, or not, I mean, whatever – it’s a (nominally) free country, right?

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