what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

i find it odd how, in the same month we began dating, i developed similar symptoms.
my stomach hurt terribly; the kind of pain that makes you wonder what's going on inside there, what is tearing, what is burning, what is breaking.
i couldn't eat at all. well, at the very least i could eat bread. and plain pasta. simple starches that would absorb acid and make me gain weight.
then came the anxiety, the claustrophobia, the need to be outside of my body. my skin would make me crawl. i'd want to shave my head so the hair wouldn't touch my neck. i was flush, burning, and half naked, pacing around my room or convulsing in my bed.
and then the pains would come again, and everything would cycle over again. and i would weep blood from my stomach, and curl up in agony, and sob without being aware of the tears, distracted by the pain.
it all started with him. i find it to be poetic justice. a deep, dark irony.
he said that to me, once, too... before i developed the symptoms. "i think god has made his decision, and poetic justice can be such dark humor."
i tried to snap him out of it, to make him understand the beauty of optimism and self control. he would have none of it.
so, while he bleeds at home, alone, with nothing... i will bleed and move on, go forward, and make something of myself.