An Ironic Prompt.

Happiness lies, first of all, in health.

I don't know who said this. It's the “You've got to write today because you've got to keep in the habit, so here's a quote to get you started” thing that my app generates for me.

I feel like this one is mocking me.

Sure, I have more health than some do. But here's the thing:

I am not “some.” I am me.

I have a leg that blows up for no good reason. I just got out of having my brain scanned. I'm trying to find to which is the actual amount of money I owe to the collectors so that the doctor will stop basically holding my leg for ransom and fucking treat my leg before next February.

It could be $360.

It could be $605.

I don't fucking know. They're not answering my question. All I know is that it's official—the slow season is here and all my money is tied to living expenses like the phone, lights, and the “dead in November” internet.

The prospect of the isolation that will bring is terrifying.

Happiness lies, first of all, in health.

I have an aunt who hits me with this sort of thing. I want to tell her every time, don't mock me.

Happiness lies, first of all, in health.

People tell me that I have no right to feel as sick or hurt or be as injured/disabled as I am because I'm YOUNG, and therefore must be healthy and happy and positive (egads, if it were possible to strangle a word…).

---

My happiness would just be less pain. That's it. And I'm settling on that. I'll work my way up from there.