21 gunshots

i'm tired of feeling terrible.
my heart feels sore. it feels tired.
i torture myself by thinking about all of the things that make me feel bad.
i torture myself by thinking that maybe there is one chance in a million that things will work out the way i need them to.

today is my 6 month anniversary of being diagnosed as diabetic. i keep thinking back to the day i ended up in the hospital, and how close i had really been to dying. i'm angry at myself that i didn't go to the doctor earlier. i always wait things out like that.
i always wait things out too long. i get to the point where i'm dying before i give in.
sometimes i end up dying and thus having to give up.
today i ordered pizza for everyone at work to celebrate that i am still alive, even though i don't feel all that great about being alive.
a few days ago, my boss told me a story about how her mother lost both of her legs to diabetes. everyone does this though. when they find out that i am diabetic, they offer to me a horror story about a friend or family member who didn't "take care of themselves" and either lost limbs or eyesight. i never know what to say. i want to tell them that if they had diabetes, that they wouldn't want to take care of themselves either. that taking care of yourself is very difficult, and that even when you test five times a day and give insulin, that sometimes you still don't have great blood sugars. this it makes you feel even worse.

i'm doing my best. i really am trying. it's so hard to do it all, though. it's hard to remember to test myself exactly two hours after i give myself insulin. it's hard to remember to write it down in a nice chart for my endocrinologist. it's hard to remember how i got this in the first place, and hard to remember why i still wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat from lows.
it's hard to remember why he left me, and hard to remind myself that i guess things could be worse.

i can't get warm. i can't get comfortable.
i'm trying to get happy again, but i can't get happy.